


no hand on the reign

by tempolarriefics



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Government Conspiracy, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, TW: Alcohol Consumption, Tattoos, tw: mentions of physical abuse, tw: mild violence, tw: threats of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 104,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempolarriefics/pseuds/tempolarriefics
Summary: Then, he sees it. His eyes lock on the tattoo and he sucks in a sharp breath, unable to look away. His brain screeches to a halt, and not just because of the sight that is a half-naked Harry.There, on Harry’s outer arm, is an intricate tattoo of a large ship. A large ship which perfectly complements the compass tattoo hidden on Louis’ own forearm.“It’s that one.” Louis breathes, reaching out a shaky finger to point to the ship on Harry’s left outer arm.“You’re sure?” Harry asks.Louis nods. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.He has found his soulmate.Or, a twist on a soulmate au where louis is a newly independent tattoo artist and harry just wants his soulmate tattoo removed. Of course, they're soulmates.





	1. if there's a will, there's a(n illegal) way

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been in the works for two years and is only emerging into the world because of the lovely [harryeatsburger](http://www.harryeatsburger.tumblr.com). thank you, and happy birthday.
> 
> thank you also to [lightwoodsmagic](http://www.lightwoodsmagic.tumblr.com) for your endless love, support, and grammar help.
> 
> for anyone wondering, the title is from No Plan by Hozier. Expect a new chapter every two weeks and at least six chapters total. Enjoy the read!

When Louis stumbles sleepily into the kitchen on the Monday morning that marks his first day of work, he is expecting to find his flatmate Liam sitting at the counter with yesterday’s paper, like every morning. What he’s not expecting, is to find Liam holding a bloody towel to his temple.

Louis freezes in the doorway, staring at his friend as his sleep-addled brain works to catch up with his surroundings.

“Morning,” Liam croaks, lips twisting up in what Louis is sure is a valiant attempt at a smile. It comes out much closer to a grimace, but considering the worrying amount of red on the white dish towel that Liam is holding up, Louis decides not to call him out on it. As much as it pains Louis, it’s typical of Liam to try to cover up his discomfort for the sake of others.

“Liam,” Louis says warningly.

Based on the way Liam’s eyes widen at his tone, the single syllable has successfully conveyed his mixed concern and disapproval.

“What happened?”

Liam doesn’t answer, but Louis’ brain is finally functioning and he’s at Liam’s side in an instant.

“What happened?” Louis tries again, more gently this time. He pries the bloodied towel from Liam’s fingertips to peer at the wound, tsking his tongue softly as he inspects it. It doesn’t look particularly deep, but there’s a lot of blood.

Liam blinks up at him, brown eyes wide and watery. He shakes his head slowly, chapped lips pressed together in determination to keep quiet.

Louis fixes him with a stern glare, rage flaring in his chest at the thought that anyone could lay a harmful finger on the same doe-eyed boy blinking up at him.

Liam doesn’t react, returning his glare with a blank look of innocence.

“You’re loyal to a fault, you know,” Louis informs Liam, doing his best to keep his tone neutral. He’s angry, but not at Liam. He can’t let himself take it out on Liam – God knows the poor boy has had enough taken out on him already.

“I know,” Liam sighs.

Now that Louis is fully alert, Liam’s voice is noticeably wrecked. Narrowing his eyes at Liam’s neck, he can easily see the remnants of handprints bruising the skin there. He winces, gently stroking his thumb over Liam’s cheek before pressing a kiss to the top of his head and saying primly, “Get your shirt off and meet me on the couch.”

“Louis,” Liam protests, his voice scratchy beyond recognition. He clears his throat and tries again, but his voice sounds just as raw as before. “I’m fine.”

A skeptical raised eyebrow is all it takes for Liam to relent, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath as he stands and limps towards their living room.

Louis nods at the sight, barely resisting the urge to support Liam’s frame as the muscular boy hobbles forwards. He knows from experience that Liam would shove him away anyways.

Once he is satisfied that Liam is en route to their couch, Louis is off like a light, socks sliding on the wood panels underneath him as he rushes around their small flat. He races to put on a kettle of tea, fetch their overused first-aid kit, and fill a bowl with cool water before returning to the living room where Liam is sitting stiffly on their tattered sofa.

“Here we are,” Louis announces, making sure his tone is soft for Liam’s benefit. He hands Liam a steaming cup of tea with an ungodly amount of honey to soothe his throat before sitting down alongside his friend, carefully running his fingers up his torso. “Tell me where it hurts, Li.”

Liam’s eyes are closed now, and he takes a long sip of the warm drink with a satisfied smack of his lips. His body physically relaxes, his rigid posture slouching as his shoulders roll forwards and his stomach curls in on itself. “Everywhere,” he admits quietly.

Louis tuts softly, dipping two fingers into a healing salve and massaging the cream over Liam’s back. There doesn’t seem to be as much bruising on his back today, but there is a swelling over his abdomen that Louis isn’t accustomed to. He rubs the cream over Liam’s neck as well, careful to keep his handprints from lining up with the ones bruised there.

“How’s that, love?” Louis asks gently, massaging away the tension from Liam’s shoulders.

Liam groans appreciatively in response and Louis nods, continuing to apply pressure at Liam’s shoulders and upper back for a few more minutes.

“This next part might hurt a little,” Louis warns softly, dabbing a soft cloth in rubbing alcohol to cleanse the wound at Liam’s temple.

“Trust me,” Liam grits out, “this isn’t what I would call hurt.”

Louis knows Liam meant for that to be an assurance that he isn’t causing any real pain, but he still winces at the implication of the words, shaking his head as he gently cleans off the blood caked by Liam’s ear. Over the years, Louis has had far too much practice with this sort of care, and he makes quick work of Liam’s injuries.

“There you go,” Louis says quietly once he’s finished, pressing a kiss to Liam’s short hair and adjusting the gauze now at his head to make sure it is secure. “Now, is there anything you want to tell me?”

Liam remains silent, sipping at his tea. After a moment, he says, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” Louis replies.

“You’re late for your first day of your dream job,” Liam says guiltily.

“Hey,” Louis consoles Liam as he helps him into a fresh button down, “I’ve waited for this for years. A few more hours doesn’t make a difference.”

Liam nods, but he looks unconvinced.

“You’re worth it,” Louis tells him, his blue eyes locking seriously with Liam’s brown ones. “Someday you’ll understand.”

“I was going to make you pancakes for breakfast,” Liam tells him, looking down, “but it hurts to stand.”

“Don’t, then,” Louis says sharply. Then, at Liam’s chastised look, more gently, “I appreciate that. But you should just spend the day here, yeah?”

Liam swallows, nodding.

“How does burnt toast sound for breakfast instead?” Louis asks, only half joking.

Liam smiles, the first real smile Louis has seen on his face all day, and nods.

Louis presents him with two crisp pieces of bread, butter, and jam a few minutes later.

“It’s not too bad, right?”

“You’re a culinary genius,” Liam agrees sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Louis grins. If Liam can make fun of him, that means he’s doing alright. He doesn’t mention the fact that the toast Liam has is from his second try, and the one he is eating himself is nearly blackened.

He heats up some soup, leaving it in a thermos that he places within arm’s reach from Liam along with a spoon. “You’re on bedrest, alright?” He informs Liam seriously. “Don’t get up unless you have to. I’d leave you a bottle or something to pee in if I thought you’d use it.”

“Gross,” Liam cringes. “You’ve overstepped being helpful and are now mildly invasive.”

“Shut up, your voice sounds like shit,” Louis retorts, but any harshness his words might have had is softened by his fond smile.

“You started it,” Liam grumbles. “Besides, I’ve got to wish you a good day of work now that I’ve gone and ruined your morning.”

It toes the line between joking and serious, and Louis has a sneaking suspicion that Liam feels it more genuinely than he is letting on. “Li,” he says, returning the half joking half serious comment with one of his own, “the only thing you’ve ruined is a few towels, but that’s no big deal.”

Liam smiles softly at him, and Louis gives him an approving nod.

“Really, though,” Liam says, voice still hoarse, “have a good first day.”

“Thanks, Li,” Louis says. He grabs his bag and gives Liam a wave as he plucks his keys from where they are hung by the doorframe and swings open the door. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” Liam says, “and good luck with your interviews!”

Shit.

Louis pauses in the doorway, his easy smile faltering for a moment. Somehow, he had completely forgotten about the interviews.

“Right,” he says, a beat later. “Thanks!”

Liam laughing at him is the last sound he hears before he shuts the door.

-

“And why do you want this job?” Louis asks the current candidate he is interviewing in monotone, eyeing the blonde girl in front of him warily.

She has too big eyes and a too wide smile, and she’s trying so hard that it freaks Louis out, just a little. He knows he isn’t supposed to be judging these interviewees based on anything other than their qualifications, but he is going to have to work with this person indefinitely. He’d rather have someone he can genuinely get along with, not someone with a resume as shiny as their pearly white teeth.

“It’s like, my dream,” she says eagerly.

“Your dream,” Louis repeats flatly, “is to be a receptionist for a tattoo parlor.”

“I know!” She squeals. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis feels on edge. He takes a steadying sip of his hot tea, wishing it was something with significantly more alcohol in it.

Louis has been working on opening up his own tattoo parlor for nearly a year, and things are finally coming together. He was able to secure a great location, get all of the necessary fixtures and equipment set up, and even get advice from the tattoo parlor he worked at previously. All he needs now is a receptionist and plans for a grand opening.

However, hiring a receptionist is turning out to be a more difficult task than he anticipated. To make things worse, he was a solid half hour late to the first of the interviews and has only been increasingly delayed since then. He probably shouldn’t have scheduled them all back to back – but isn’t the whole point of hiring a receptionist that scheduling clearly is not his strong suit? He thinks they ought to understand.

“Great,” he echoes through gritted teeth, “I’ll be in touch.”

She bobs her head excitedly, grabbing her handbag and practically skipping out.

The next girl who comes in has jet black hair, bright green eyes, and is staring at him so intently that Louis wonders if she is capable of blinking.

“Erm… hello,” Louis says, trying to keep the same level of cheerfulness in his voice as before.

“Hi,” she replies, her voice a breathy whisper.

“Alright. Can you tell me a bit about yourself and why you want this job?” Louis asks, trying not to rule her out immediately based on her inability to project her voice.

“What does anyone want, other than a purpose in life?” She asks him in return.

“Um,” Louis blinks, “I suppose.”

She doesn’t offer anything more by way of explanation, so Louis forces himself onwards. “So, tell me why you think you’re qualified for this.”

It’s honestly a mundane job. Louis hadn’t imagined that interviewing for someone to sit at a desk and schedule appointments all day could possibly be so difficult. He’s not necessarily the easiest person to work with, but he’s not hard to get along with either. He could care less if his receptionist was on their cell phone the entire time or even watching Netflix, so long as the appointments get scheduled.

“Haven’t you ever just known that something was meant to be?” The girl seated in front of him asks back.

Louis nods slowly. “Do you have relevant previous experience in the field?”

“Aren’t all experiences relevant in the field of life and yet irrelevant in the grand scheme of things anyways?”

Louis tries to parse her answer for a moment before shaking his head in mild confusion. “Are you organized?”

“No amount of organization can prepare you for the unexpectedness of life, you know?”

“Are you capable of saying anything that’s not a question?” Louis sighs.

“Are you?” She asks innocently.

“I am interviewing you,” Louis all but snaps. “I am supposed to be asking questions, and you are supposed to be answering.”

Somehow, she looks entirely confused. “I thought I was also supposed to be asking you questions?”

“No,” Louis sighs, “I’m sorry, no.”

He calls in the next candidate.

The next interviewee is a young man with dark hair and glasses that are comically large. When Louis asks him to share about himself and why he wants the job, he launches into a monologue that’s nearly half an hour in length, listing all of his relevant qualifications from high school club positions to being able to hold a handstand for four minutes and thirty-five seconds.

Louis dismisses him as gently as possible.

The next girl has dyed red-hair and a temper to match. She looks absolutely outraged from the moment she first walks into his office space. “Are you aware that I waited one fucking hour past my scheduled time for this bloody interview?” She demands.

Louis winces at the volume of her voice, but can’t find it in him to immediately dismiss her, although he would like to. He can understand how she would be impatient after being kept waiting, but that doesn’t mean he wants to deal with it.

“Sorry about that,” Louis says, rubbing his temples, “We’re a bit behind schedule, but if you’ll just take a seat please, we can get this show on the road. Tell me why you want this job and-”

“I want this job,” she all but shouts in his face, “because I want the money.”

Louis lets out a long breath, giving her a half smile. “Don’t we all,” he mutters.

“And I did _not_,” she says harshly, “wait for hours just for you to not take me seriously.”

“One hour. And I am serious,” Louis corrects, blinking up at her tiredly.

_Maybe I can get by without a receptionist_, Louis thinks to himself. He’s heard of other tattoo artists who have worked solo. He’s pretty sure there’s only one candidate left after her, and his hopes for filling the receptionist position are at an all-time low.

“But you aren’t going to hire me,” the tempered girl says, nostrils flaring. It sounds like a challenge, but for once Louis isn’t up for a fight.

“Probably not, no,” he informs her, his words clipped. “Now, if you would please escort yourself out-”

“I will _not_,” she tells him, folding her arms over her chest defiantly.

Louis needs a very strong drink after this. He’s ready to lose his own temper, to stand up and tell her that no one would ever hire someone who comes in shouting at their future employer, when he is blissfully interrupted.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a blonde-haired man has pushed open the door to Louis’ office, and is facing her with a stern expression.

Louis thinks this is probably some breach of interviewer-interviewee confidentiality, but he honestly doesn’t care.

“I’m the security guard here, and I’m going to have to show you out,” the man says, arms crossed over his chest in what is supposedly an intimidating position. He has twinkling blue eyes and the corners of his mouth are tugging upwards like he wants to burst out laughing, so the full effect isn’t quite there, but Louis is grateful nonetheless.

The fiery woman doesn’t seem to catch on to the delight threatening to shine on his face and huffs, fixing the man who is apparently Louis’ new security guard with a venomous glare before storming out.

The man waits until she has completely left the building, craning his neck around the corner until after the welcome bell over the door has jangled to signal her departure, before doubling over in laughter.

It takes Louis a moment to join in – to be fair, it has been an extremely long day and it’s hardly past noon – but finally he lets out a chuckle as well.

“Thank you for that,” Louis says, sighing.

“Not a problem,” the man replies, standing straight and adjusting his three-piece suit before extending a hand to Louis. “My name’s Niall. Niall Horan.”

He has a thick Irish accent, an easygoing smile, and is clearly dressed to impress. Also, he’s just rescued him from what Louis would politely call an unpleasant interview experience. As far as first impressions go, he’s the best so far.

“My new security guard, evidently,” Louis jokes, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Ah,” Niall clears his throat, shrugging modestly. “It sounded like you needed a bit of help - I could hear the yelling from the waiting area outside.”

Louis shakes his head, ducking his head to hide a grin. “A bit of help, yeah. Thank you.”

“You’ve said that already,” Niall tells him, a friendly grin on his face. “Now then, as much fun as it has been to be your security man, I actually am here to interview for your receptionist post.”

“Really?” Louis asks, failing to mask his surprise.

“Yes, I’m-” Niall begins to explain himself, but Louis cuts him off.

“Excellent. You’re hired,” he says, clapping his hands together.

“Already?” Niall asks, letting out a huffed laugh of disbelief. “Haven’t told you a word about myself yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis shrugs, “You’re the most bearable of the lot so far, and you’ve got a good personality for greeting people. Also, ‘s nice to know you’ll have my back if I ever get in a tricky situation, though that usually doesn’t happen in this profession.”

“I don’t have any tattoos, other than the one,” Niall says, seeming intent on disclosing himself fully, “and I’m only interested in this job because it’s good money with a lot of free time.”

“That’s alright,” Louis nods, “You don’t need to have tattoos to be a receptionist, even of a tattoo parlor.”

“I’m a bit loud,” Niall continues, looking wary. “Play a lot of music. Write music in my spare time, even.”

“Cool,” Louis says, smiling, “I expect at least one song about me before you ultimately resign.”

Niall is still staring at him as if he doesn’t quite believe this is real, but slowly his expression morphs from doubtful to pleased. Niall smiles widely, standing and moving around Louis’ desk before pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“I like you already,” Niall informs him, stepping back.

“Good. I like you too,” Louis says with a laugh. “Alright, now let me show you around.”

The tattoo parlor that Louis has snagged for himself is a small building. He used to work as a tattoo artist at a separate company, and has only recently transitioned to opening up his own place. He has quite a few loyal customers from his previous gig, as well as his old boss’ full support, so hopefully things will go smoothly.

It's not something Niall necessarily needs to know, but he explains it all to him anyways as he guides him around the small shop.

The layout of the parlor is simple: a small waiting area at the entrance with glass windows all around, a reception desk across from the main door, and a tapered hall at one side of the room that opens into the workspace. The work area is spacious but consists mostly of an operating chair and a variety of fruit that Louis has practiced inking, spread in various bowls to look artistic. The door to his office is between the reception area and the workspace, a small room tucked off to the side. He doesn’t plan on using it much and it shows, the office containing only a pristine desk and some untouched pads of sketch paper.

“Your decorations could use some work,” Niall says candidly, motioning to the random arrays of fruit.

Louis laughs, running a hand through his hair and shrugging. Niall has a point. The rest of the parlor has a minimalist monochrome décor, white wooden floors with dark shaped carpets interspersed and dark furniture and walls. The tattooed fruits bring a sudden splash of color and look starkly out of place.

“Mind if I leave it to you?” Louis asks, and Niall fist pumps in response.

“Mind?” Niall asks brightly. “I’d love to.”

Louis likes him a lot.

“Perfect,” Louis says. “There’s just one last thing before you’re officially employed.”

Niall looks at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Can I see your soulmate tattoo?”

It’s a formality more than anything else. Louis highly doubts that Niall is his soulmate – and at this point is frankly doubting that he’ll ever find his soulmate – but it would present a problem if Niall happened to have a tattoo that matched his. It wouldn’t be a huge issue, and certainly the excitement of having found his soulmate would outweigh the drudgery of the paperwork that followed, but it is something they should check.

Niall nods, shrugging off his suit jacket and rolling up his left shirt sleeve. His skin is pale, smooth, and unmarked save for a small black outline of a jigsaw puzzle piece just by his left elbow.

Louis hums thoughtfully. “Have you met the lucky person yet?”

Niall shakes his head, shrugging. “Not yet. ‘M not too worried about it, you know. Still young and all.”

Niall’s response causes Louis to realize suddenly just how cynical he has become. As such, it takes him a moment to notice that Niall is studying him, eyes skimming over the parts of his tanned skin that his t-shirt reveals.

“You’ve got a lot of tattoos, mate.”

Louis shrugs, lips quirking up in a smile. “Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

“Which one is…_ the one_?” Niall asks, his blue eyes meeting Louis’ own.

A small smile comes to Louis’ face unbidden. He remembers waking up on the day of his 18th birthday and discovering the best present he had ever received, a tattoo of an intricate compass on his forearm. “This one,” he tells Niall, holding out his right arm and rotating it to show off the full tattoo.

“Found your soulmate yet?” Niall asks, reaching out to trace his fingers over the ink at Louis’ wrist.

Louis shakes his head, lips pressed together.

“Nah, probably for the better anyways,” Niall says with a playful grin. “All in good time, my man!”

The parlor is fairly small so the tour doesn’t take long at all. Now that Louis doesn’t have to worry about finding himself a receptionist, his day has cleared up.

He likes Niall more than he could have hoped to, and they find themselves falling into an easy friendship right off the bat. They spend the rest of the day getting to know each other, and he even teaches Niall how to use a tattoo gun. By the time they close up shop, the majority of the fruit in his workspace is sporting freshly tattooed dicks.

-

“Honey, I’m home!” Louis calls out as he swings open the door to his flat later that afternoon. Liam is no longer laying on the couch, which is hopefully a sign that he’s feeling better.

Louis doesn’t have to see Liam’s face to know he is rolling his eyes at his greeting. “How’d the receptionist searching go, then?” His voice comes from the kitchen, sounding far better than it had earlier this morning.

“It went great,” Louis says enthusiastically, setting down his rucksack before amending, “Well. It went terribly overall. But there was one good candidate, and one good one is all I need.”

“That’s good,” Liam nods in understanding from where he is standing by the stove, a pot of what looks like pasta boiling in front of him.

“Are you feeling any better?” Louis asks, studying his friend seriously.

“A bit,” Liam says after a moment, draining the pot of boiling water in the sink and filling two bowls with spaghetti noodles, topping them with a generous amount of marinara sauce. He pushes a bowl towards Louis, wiping his hands dry on a towel as he says quietly, “Can we talk about something?

“Of course,” Louis says, brow furrowing worriedly. Liam seems serious, so Louis doesn’t retort that they already are talking. “What’s up?”

Liam is silent for a moment, twirling noodles around his fork repeatedly before sighing and taking a seat on one of the stools by the counter. “I need you to promise that you won’t look at me differently after I say this,” Liam says quietly. “I need you to promise me that you’ll be honest with me.”

“Always,” Louis assures him. When Liam looks doubtful, he emphasizes, “I promise.”

“You know how people talk about having a best friend that you would go to if you needed to hide a body?” Liam asks. “Are we at that level of friendship?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Louis swears, nearly losing his grip on his bowl of spaghetti, “Liam, were you involved in a _murder_?”

Considering the state he had found Liam in this morning coupled with Liam’s most recent question, Louis doesn’t think it’s an entirely huge jump to assume Liam has partaken in some violent act that he now needs help covering up.

Liam chokes on his bite of pasta, grabbing for a glass water and coughing for a bit before spitting out hoarsely, “No, what the fuck? Louis, do you even know me?”

Louis frowns. That’s fair. He can’t imagine Liam killing anyone, ever. Liam still yells for him to come get rid of the spiders that he finds in their flat and gets upset if he kills them instead of using a cup to trap them and toss them outside.

Liam looks offended, so Louis apologizes hastily, “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t think that through.” He pauses. Then, “But for the record, I’d help you hide a body if you needed to.”

“Good,” Liam says.

Louis raises an eyebrow at his friend, attempting to prod him to continue nonverbally.

Liam hesitates, but when he speaks his next words come out in a rush, as if he leaves a pause between them he’ll lose his courage to get the whole sentence out. “I want to leave my soulmate.”

Louis lets go of his bowl of spaghetti in favor of leaping out of his seat for a victorious fist pump.

The bowl is made of plastic, so it doesn’t crack against the counter dramatically, but it does slosh marinara sauce over the side and the clattering sound it makes as it lands is enough to cause Liam to jump.

“Fuck yes!” Louis all but shouts, fist pumping the air twice more with his now empty hands. “It’s about goddamned time, Liam Payne.”

Liam’s soulmate, a strong chap named Derrick, has gotten progressively violent throughout their relationship. Liam has never complained about him, but Louis has seen the various injuries he has come home with and was able to put the pieces together. Despite his romantic streak, Louis has always thought that the soulmate system was flawed for pairing someone as sweet as Liam with someone as cruel as Derrick. He’s fairly certain that Derrick is responsible for the injuries that he tended to this morning, even if Liam will never confirm it.

Liam blinks at him in shock. “You’re not upset?”

“Upset?” Louis asks, scoffing in disbelief. This is the furthest he has ever been from upset. “Of course not.”

Liam stares at him, confusion clear on his face.

“I’ve seen how he treats you, Li. You deserve way better, no matter what the ink on your arm says,” Louis explains earnestly. He frowns, thinking of the state he had found Liam in this morning. “I know you don’t blame him, but you haven’t been truly happy either, not for a long time.”

When he looks up at Liam again, his eyes are wet.

“Hey,” Louis says softly. “Hey, don’t cry.”

“Louis,” Liam whispers, a watery smile taking over his face, “you’re a really good friend.”

Louis pulls Liam into a bone crushing hug, holding his friend tightly until he stops sniffling. Then, he pulls back, squeezing his arm encouragingly. “Alright! So, when are you going to tell him? Tomorrow?”

Liam’s cheeks flush red, and he immediately shoves a large bite of noodle into his mouth. He says something, but it’s so muffled by the food in his mouth that Louis can’t make it out.

“What?” Louis asks, eyes narrowing suspiciously at his friend.

“I already told him,” Liam mumbles, eyes downcast.

Louis waits for the punchline, for Liam to tell him how it went when he finally told Derrick off. “And?”

“And?” Liam echoes, sounding defeated. “And, that’s when you found me this morning, with a bleeding face from where he slammed me into the counter.”

“Fuck,” Louis mutters, anger swirling inside of him. “From where he fucking what?”

“It’s fine, Lou.” Liam says dismissively.

“Fine?” Louis demands, exhaling harshly. “Liam, you’re telling me he bashed your head against a counter. That’s _not_ fine.”

“Alright, so it’s not fine,” Liam shrugs. “I’m used to it, is all I’m saying.”

Louis must look alarmingly angry, because Liam gently leads him to the couch and says, “I know it’s fucked up, Lou. But I’m trying to leave, and that’s what’s important right now. I just need to figure out how.”

Louis glares coldly at a spot on their wall, doing his best to channel the fierce protectiveness he feels for Liam into something that’s helpful for Liam now, an idea about how to leave Derrick without his agreement.

Louis presses his lips together thoughtfully. “Let’s make some tea,” he says, attempting to sound sure of himself. Usually this is Liam’s place, coming up with a plan for them and acting like everything will be okay. But right now, Liam’s lower lip is wobbling, his eyes are big and teary, and he’s in no position to be taking the lead.

“Okay,” Liam says. If his voice shakes, Louis pretends not to notice.

“Before the kettle is empty, we’ll have a plan,” Louis tells him firmly.

Liam nods.

Louis boils a lot of water, just in case.

The thing is, Louis muses as the water boils, if Derrick doesn’t want to separate from Liam, then he legally has the right to keep Liam from leaving him. The law only allows for soulmate separations if it’s a mutual decision by both parties. It’s an illogical rule in Louis’ opinion, but it’s designed to prevent one soulmate from abandoning the other to be with someone else that they aren’t destined to be with.

Louis knows that’s not the reason Liam wants to leave. Hell, the reason Liam has stayed so long with Derrick already is because he has been trying desperately to make the fact that they are soulmates work out.

There’s no good solution, though. Louis remembers how it went with his mum’s soulmate, his biological father. He had been addicted to alcohol, terrified by the prospect of having a family, and had up and left them without any warning. He remembers his mum agonizing, trying to decide whether to pursue him or not. Had she gone to the police, they would have searched for him and identified him by his tattoo before returning him to her forcibly. She hadn’t, though, deciding that the lack of a father figure would be better than the presence of a neglecting one.

It hadn’t been a mutual parting necessarily, but the only reason Louis’ dad was successfully able to leave was because his mum chose to let him.

Somehow, he doesn’t think Derrick will let Liam go quite so willingly.

“We’ve got three options, really,” Liam says when Louis sits down across the table from him, holding two steaming cups of tea.

“Let’s hear it,” Louis says, taking a sip.

“I can either stay with him-”

“_Bzzt_.” Louis cuts him off, making a noise with his lips like a buzzer. At Liam’s look of surprise, he shakes his head. “That’s not an option, Li.”

Liam shrugs. “Two options, then. I can either convince him to let me go, or I can leave him and go into hiding.”

Louis sighs. He has only met Derrick twice, but based on those encounters he doesn’t think the man is the most easily persuaded guy, especially if the shiner on Liam’s temple is anything to go by. On the other hand, if Liam does try to go into hiding and Derrick files a formal complaint, he’ll be hunted down by the cops and brought back against his will. That would mean a life living in fear of being caught, in the best-case scenario. In the worst case, he’ll get caught and they’ll be back at square one.

“Those aren’t very good options,” Louis says, frowning.

“What else is there?” Liam asks, dropping his head down on the table, spitting out his next words bitterly, “He’s my soulmate.”

_That_ gets Louis’ brain working.

“What if…” Louis says thoughtfully, “he wasn’t your soulmate?”

Liam looks up at him, propping his chin on the table to give him a dull look. “Well that would be dandy, now wouldn’t it?” He says. “But he is, and I’m stuck with him.”

“Sarcasm isn’t your thing, Li,” Louis informs him, shaking his head. “And anyways, I’m being serious. Have you forgotten who I am?”

Liam raises an eyebrow, looking thoroughly lost. “You’re…Louis Tomlinson.”

“Well, yes,” Louis rolls his eyes, “but I’m a tattoo artist, Li. I can make that soulmate tattoo of yours disappear. Then no one would know who you were fated to be with.”

“Louis,” Liam says slowly, eyes wide, “that’s illegal.”

Louis shrugs one shoulder, nodding.

“You could lose your job. You could be arrested. Isn’t the punishment for tampering with soulmate tattoos, like, prison for life?” Liam’s eyes are comically large now, looking equally in awe and panicked.

All of these things are true, but Louis can’t help but think that this is the perfect solution. Cops wouldn’t be able to identify Liam by his tattoo, and he wouldn’t have to live in fear of being caught. Besides, there’s no one he would rather do this for than Liam.

“Guess we can’t get caught, then,” Louis replies easily, thrill zipping through his veins.

“_Louis_,” Liam scolds, shaking his head dismissively, “It’s not worth the risk. I won’t let you do that for me.”

Liam might be attempting to convince Louis otherwise, but he hasn’t flat out rejected the idea either, which means he is considering it. Louis can work with that.

“Think about it, Li. There’s either a small risk on my life and a huge chance that we can set you free, or a 100% guarantee that you’ll be stuck with Derrick forever.” Louis says, folding his arms in challenge. “Which one do you really want to take?”

Liam frowns, looking down.

He’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is timid. “Don’t you think it’s wrong? For me to want to leave my soulmate? He’s my _soulmate_.”

“No,” Louis says earnestly, giving his friend a small smile, “I think it’s wrong that you were matched with him in the first place.”

Liam looks up at him then, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Lou,” he says quietly. “You’d really do this for _me_?”

“I’d do a lot for you, Li. You’re my best mate,” Louis tells him.

Liam’s eyes light up a little at that, and Louis hopes it’s the first step towards something like confidence. He thinks he’d do anything to see Liam believe in himself.

“Sleep on it, yeah?” Louis says. “You can come into the tattoo shop with me tomorrow and so long as you aren’t having any second thoughts, we’ll get started right away.”

Liam gives him a funny look. “You know, I didn’t exactly agree just yet.”

“You didn’t exactly disagree either,” Louis replies.

“I did, though,” Liam protests, but he seems fairly on board with the idea now.

“Wash all your long-sleeved shirts while you’re at it,” Louis instructs. “The process isn’t a one-time thing, and we’ve got to keep the tattoo covered up in the meanwhile.”

He leaves Liam then to mull things over and hopefully get started on his laundry.

Before he heads off to bed, he sends a text to the most recently added number in his contacts.

[To: Niall Horan 11:53 PM]

dnt come to work on time tomorrow unless u r down for illegal operations

-

When Louis arrives at the tattoo parlor the next day, Liam in tow, he finds Niall leaning against the brick wall outside. He’s not dressed in a suit today, opting for a more casual look. Louis likes the t-shirt and sneakers much better, and he makes a mental note to tell him as much later.

“You showed up,” Louis calls by way of greeting, trying not to sound too surprised.

“We’re partners now,” Niall replies, raising an eyebrow as if daring Louis to contradict him. “In it together, legal or not.”

A smile spreads on Louis’ face. “That we are.”

Niall turns to Liam then, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Niall Horan,” he introduces himself with a bright grin. “Partner in crime, tattoo receptionist, and guitar extraordinaire.”

Liam looks somewhat stunned, but politely shakes his hand. “I’m Liam,” he says. “Otherwise known as the reason that you’re about to break the law.”

Niall laughs wholeheartedly and Louis shushes them both, unlocking the door quickly and ushering them inside.

“So,” Niall says, looking expectantly from one man to the other once Louis has shut the door behind them. “Someone fill me in.”

Liam glances hesitantly at Louis, who nods. “Louis is going to remove my soulmate tattoo.”

There’s a beat of silence, as if Niall is gauging whether or not they are joking. Then, Niall lets out a low whistle, cursing “Bloody hell,” but it sounds appreciative rather than disapproving.

“You’re free to cop out at any time,” Louis informs him seriously, “I don’t want to drag you into anything you don’t want to be a part of.”

“If we get caught, we’ll say you had no idea,” Liam adds, scuffing his feet uncertainly against the hardwood floor.

“Oh please,” Niall rolls his eyes, “as if I’ve never done anything wrong in my life. What’s the reason for this though?”

“His soulmate…” Louis says quietly, figuring that Niall has the right to know if he’s going to risk his record for them as well. “Well, he’s abusive.”

The cut on Liam’s head is looking much better today, a dark scab forming where it had been bright with fresh blood yesterday. The bruise marks at his neck, however, look worse if anything, more deep purple than they were the day before.

“Fuck. Him,” Niall says lowly, blue eyes glinting dangerously. Then, sounding much cheerier, “Well, let’s get to it, then! Time to get that thing off of ya.”

Louis can’t help but marvel at how easygoing Niall is, how quickly he has taken Liam’s side. Most people tend to have unwavering faith in the soulmate system, and Louis had been worried that Niall might be the same.

Liam settles himself in the operating chair, unbuttoning his shirt and turning to Louis. “It’s been a while since I’ve done something illegal,” he says, a childish gleam in his eyes as he rubs his hands together.

“Liam,” Louis deadpans, averting his eyes from the various swells and bruises on Liam’s chest, “the last illegal thing you did was try a sip of wine before you were of age.”

Liam pouts, but doesn’t argue, and Louis tries not to look too pleased with himself as Niall lets out a loud laugh.

“Alright,” he says, skimming his fingers over Liam’s forearm where the black outline of a feather is inked. “Time to get to business.”

“I’ll keep a lookout from the front,” Niall says. “Keep anyone who comes in the shop from wandering back here.”

“So, basically just doing your job as a receptionist?” Louis teases. At the way Niall’s eyebrows furrow in response, he hastily amends, “No, that’s perfect Niall. Very helpful.”

“Watch it, Tommo,” Niall jokes. “Maybe if a cop comes in, I’ll direct him straight back here.”

Louis laughs good-naturedly, shooing Niall off to the front room, but Liam’s face is looking increasingly pasty.

“Louis,” Liam says, voice strained.

“Yeah?” Louis asks, looking up from where he is preparing his tools.

“We’re about to break the law.” He says it quietly, but there’s an edge to his tone that Louis knows means he’s panicking internally.

“That we are, Li,” Louis agrees, doing his best to sound calm.

Liam gulps audibly.

“It’s either us breaking the law, or Derrick breaking every bone in your body,” Louis reminds him gently, shaking his head.

“What if we get caught?” Liam chokes out. “Lou, you’ll be in even more trouble than I will.”

“I think if you’re going to be worried about anything, it should be the fact that I’ve never done this before,” Louis says, doing his best to distract Liam from feeling guilty. “As a future tip, you should try to never be a tattoo artist’s first. Sometimes it doesn’t end well.”

“Can’t we just cover it up?” Liam asks, watching Louis prepare himself with wide, terrified eyes. “Just draw a bird over it or summat.”

Louis shakes his head, squeezing Liam’s hand reassuringly. “Derrick would see right through it, and so would any jury if he were to end up taking it to court.”

Liam looks unconvinced.

Louis shrugs. “Besides, covering it up is qualified as tampering with it anyways. We might as well go all out.”

“Fine,” Liam says finally, extending his arm for Louis to take. “I’m going to close my eyes. And you’re going to warn me before it hurts and then not speak to me until you’re done for this session.”

“Deal,” Louis agrees.

Liam cracks an eye open, peering worriedly at Louis. “Do you think Niall would hold my hand for this?”

“Niall’s busy being our lookout, Li,” Louis reminds him calmly. “There’s plenty of tattooed fruit around if you feel the urge to squeeze something, though.”

He’s joking, but Liam very seriously considers a banana nearby before shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Are you ready?” Louis asks. “This might hurt.”

Liam nods determinedly, but his eyes are still pressed tightly closed and he is biting his lip as if to prevent himself from making any noises. Frankly, it’s endearing.

“I’ll talk you through it, okay?” Louis assures Liam soothingly. “It’ll be over before you know it. Cold air is coming first, it’ll keep it from hurting too much.”

Liam nods again, bracing himself, and Louis deftly uses a small hose to blow numbingly cold air over his forearm. It’s an averaged size tattoo, not nearly as small as Niall’s soulmate tattoo is, but also not large enough to be intimidating. It looks and responds like any other regular tattoo, and Louis mentally prays that the removal process will be the same. If something goes wrong because there’s a special quality to soulmate tattoos that he is unaware of, well, he doesn’t even want to think about that. They’ll be caught immediately for sure.

But if removing soulmate tattoos was different, Louis reasons as he readies the laser, surely there wouldn’t be such harsh laws against doing so, because it would be much more difficult to do. He had made a trip to the library last night to do some incognito googling on the subject and hadn’t found anything worth noting. He did however end up having a chat with the lovely librarian, Mrs. Ackerman, who had the worst case of micromanaging that he had ever seen. Hopefully his story about being a budding author writing about star-crossed lovers who aren’t soulmates was believable enough.

“Laser coming next,” Louis informs Liam. “This is the part that’ll hurt.”

Liam’s knuckles whiten where he is gripping at the armrest of his chair, but otherwise he gives no indication that he has heard the warning.

Louis aims the red light of the laser over the outline of the feather with one hand and holds Liam’s arm steady with the other.

“Here we go,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

He has done this hundreds of times before on regular tattoos, and the familiarity of the process keeps his hands steady more than anything else as he maneuvers the laser with ease. Fortunately, the soulmate tattoo seems to be reacting like any other tattoo would, the dark ink obligingly fading into a lighter shade.

It’s a nearly mindless process, and Louis makes quick work of it. Before he knows it, he is shutting off the laser and flipping up the protective eyewear he had donned earlier.

“All done,” he announces, feeling giddy with relief.

Liam’s eyes flutter open, and he looks first at Louis, gauging his response. Liam must be satisfied with whatever he sees in Louis’ expression, because he breaks into a wide grin even before looking at his arm.

“It looks so good already,” Liam says, sounding amazed.

Louis might normally be offended by the tone of surprise in Liam’s voice, but considering this was his first soulmate tattoo removal, he lets it slide. It does look good, the dark black of the tattoo having lightened significantly.

Liam is smiling at his arm in awe and when he finally drags his eyes up to meet Louis’, he looks the happiest that Louis has seen him in a long time.

“This could actually work,” Liam says, sounding somewhere between laughing and crying. “This could actually work!”

“Are ya done, then?” Niall calls, before coming into the room to see for himself.

“Oi,” Louis scolds him as he starts to put away the laser equipment, “aren’t you supposed to be watching the front?”

Niall rolls his eyes, behavior that Louis doesn’t think he would tolerate from anyone else as his receptionist. “Please,” Niall says, shaking his head, “no one has come in this whole time. They aren’t about to flood in now.”

“There’s nothing to see anymore anyways,” Liam adds reasonably, holding his arm out to Niall with pride.

“C’mere, let me rub this numbing cream in to make the stinging better,” Louis says, reaching for Liam.

Niall pulls up a chair, watching eagerly. “Did it hurt?”

“Nah,” Liam shrugs, looking awfully casual for someone who was clinging to his chair for dear life moments earlier.

Louis snickers at Liam’s recovered suave, gently smoothing the opaque salve over his tattoo.

Liam hears, and defends himself with a huff, “Well, I thought it would be worse!”

Niall laughs, clapping Liam on the back. “I’m sure you did great,” he says confidently.

“He did,” Louis agrees, standing up and brushing his hands off on the front of his jeans.

“So, what’s next?” Liam asks.

“Now, we wait,” Louis answers, explaining, “There’s some aftercare things that I can help you with at home, but otherwise it should take care of itself. We’ll have to do this again at least a few more times, spaced out by a few weeks each. It should lighten up even more than this on its own over time, too.”

“Awesome,” Liam says, grinning.

“For now, just let the swelling go down and try not to irritate it too much,” Louis says, nodding. He hesitates before adding, “And, you know, try not to let Derrick see it of course.”

“He won’t,” Liam says, shaking his head. “Doesn’t notice anything about me on the best of days, so we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Louis makes a face, remembering how after Liam had traded in his trademark tousled hair for a close-cropped buzz cut it had taken Derrick weeks to even mention that ‘something seemed different about him’.

“You’re right,” he agrees, scoffing. “We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Well,” Niall says suddenly, voice strangely squeaky. He looks mildly terrified, and Louis follows his frozen gaze to see a police car parked outside. “Maybe one thing to worry about.”

-

Niall and Liam’s definitions of acting casual are probably the worst that Louis has ever seen.

“Niall,” Louis hisses, and the blonde looks up from where he is leaning against the wall and whistling. “You’re my fucking receptionist, get behind the fucking front desk.”

“Language,” Liam says.

“Do you curse more when you’re stressed?” Niall asks, but at Louis’ answering glare, obediently scurries over to the main desk.

“Liam,” Louis chastises, not even knowing what to say to his roommate, who is currently sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I think so,” Niall muses. “That’s your third ‘fuck’ in the past thirty seconds.”

“I don’t know. I thought sitting would be good,” Liam says, sounding stressed.

“On a chair would be great,” Louis says sarcastically, hauling Liam up by his arm. “Come pretend you’re looking at the tattoo designs for something you like. And roll down your sleeve to cover this shit up for fuck’s sake.”

Liam stumbles after Louis over to the other side of Niall’s desk, fumbling to roll down his sleeve to cover up the tattoo that Louis has begun to remove. Niall shoves a laminated sheet of featured tattoo designs at him, and Liam takes it gratefully.

“Just be normal,” Louis says, shaking his head in exasperation. “There’s no way they’ll know we’ve done anything wrong unless we let them know.”

“He’s hot,” Liam blurts, staring unabashedly out the window towards the cop car.

“He really is,” Niall agrees, “His face is so symmetrical.”

“Don’t both stare at him, _please_,” Louis groans, forcing himself to not follow their gazes and instead to go to the back room to finish tidying up.

“I can stare, I’m the receptionist,” Niall declares.

Liam sighs and focuses his attention on the pamphlet in front of him once more.

A moment later, the bell above their door jangles loudly, followed nearly immediately by Niall’s voice calling out, “Welcome to Tommo’s Tattoos, sir!”

“Hey,” The cop’s voice is smooth and carries all the way to where Louis is hiding out in the back, somewhat hastily putting away the remainder of his tattoo removal equipment.

“How can I help you today?” Niall asks, and Louis realizes that this is technically their first customer. Niall is doing a great job, especially considering the circumstances.

“I’d make a joke about how I’m here to bust you guys for something,” the cop says lightly, “but I don’t want to scare off your other customer.”

After putting away the numbing salve, Louis peeks around the corner to watch. The cop really is an objectively attractive man. Louis can’t quite make out all of his features, but based on the artful hairstyle his dark hair is swept up into, combined with the sharp structure of his angled jaw and high cheekbones, Louis can understand why Niall is gaping somewhat openly at the man in uniform.

“I’m just here to browse tattoo designs,” the cop says after a moment in which his joke didn’t get the intended response from a speechless Niall.

“Oh!” Niall nods, quickly retrieving another laminated sheet of suggested tattoos. “Here you are.”

“Do you have a copy I could take with me?” The cop asks. “It’s my lunch break right now, but I’ll be back another day, once I’ve thought it over a bit more.”

Niall produces a paper copy of the designs wordlessly, and hands it to the model of a cop.

“Cheers,” the cop says gratefully, raising the paper in a mock toast at Niall and giving him a wink, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yes, erm…come back soon!” Niall calls out after him.

The door jangles shut and everyone remaining in the tattoo parlor breathes an audible sigh of relief.

“He winked at me,” Niall says.

“He didn’t notice me,” Liam says.

“He didn’t arrest me,” Louis says.

Louis is pretty sure that they all count it as a win.

-

The trouble starts on a seemingly normal Thursday the following week.

Though business had certainly been off to an interesting start, what with committing crimes on the first day that Louis’ shop had been open for business, they had quickly recovered and fallen into a relatively mundane routine.

Niall, fortunately, was quite good at managing the phone line and scheduling appointments in an orderly manner. He had learned quickly that Louis liked to have a bit of a gap between customers, but that it was good for customers to be present at the same time as it eased their nerves to see others in the shop, and did a great job of balancing these factors.

They had stepped up their marketing, putting ads out in the local newspapers and regularly updating their social media accounts, which Niall had graciously set up. The shop was relatively busy, Niall having less and less free time with which to compose songs while he was sat at the front desk.

It was because of this, the increasingly steady flow of customers into the shop, that neither Louis nor Niall thinks anything is amiss when a certain green-eyed, dark-haired, tattooed man walks into the parlor and asks to speak to the tattoo artist in charge privately.

“Hey, Louis,” Niall calls out, poking his head into the door of Louis’ office.

The office is as depressing as ever. Louis had been spinning in his swivel chair and contemplating decorations and the installation of a one-way window when Niall interrupted him.

“What’s up?” Louis asks. “Next customer isn’t for another thirty minutes, I thought?”

“Yeah, there’s a walk-in who wants to talk with you privately,” Niall informs him.

Louis nods. It’s not uncommon to want to speak privately with your tattoo artist – Louis has had talks with customers about everything from weird skin conditions to tattoos in inappropriate places.

“Sure, send him in,” Louis tells Niall, righting himself in his chair and attempting to seem a bit more professional.

Niall chuckles on his way out and a moment later a tall, dark-haired man steps in.

Louis freezes.

He isn’t sure why, but something about the man standing in the doorway seems to have taken away his ability to act like a functional, normal human being.

“I’m Harry,” the man introduces himself after a moment of staring at each other, in which Louis doesn’t offer any sort of introduction.

Louis blinks, startled out of his trance, and shakes his head to clear it. “Sorry, please take a seat. I’m Louis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says, inexplicably sounding like he truly means it.

“You too,” Louis says automatically, still staring. He knows it’s unprofessional, but the man seated across from him has been unfairly blessed in terms of good looks. He has dimples, for Christ’s sake. Louis has always had a weakness for dimples. Louis swallows. “How can I help you?

“I’d like to keep this conversation between just the two of us. I’m sure you understand.”

Louis nods. He isn’t sure why Harry wants this kept quiet, but he hopes it’s not an inappropriate tattoo location. God forbid the devastatingly handsome man wants a tattoo someplace that Louis will end up fantasizing about.

“Certainly,” Louis assures him, deliberately trying to keep eye contact with the man. If his gaze wanders to the tattoos littering his chest and arms, well, only Louis’ occupation and the man’s choice of sheer shirt are to blame. “So, what’s this about then?”

“Right, yes,” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows slightly and leaning forward. When he speaks again, his tone is hushed. “It’s about a tattoo removal.”

“Ah,” Louis nods knowingly. He’s had plenty of these encounters before – people with tattoos they regret and now are ashamed of having gotten, wanting to discuss their removal privately to avoid the embarrassment of other patrons overhearing. “Sure,” Louis says easily, relaxing at the familiarity of the situation. Finally, he feels back in his element. “Which tattoo?”

Now, he allows his eyes to wander freely over the number of tattoos currently visible to him. There’s an astounding number of them, especially considering that Harry must be around Louis’ age. There are what look to be two large sparrows by Harry’s collarbones. Perhaps he’s no longer fond of those. Or maybe – is that a butterfly over his abdomen? Jesus. Louis would bet money that it’s that one he wants removed.

“Actually,” Harry hesitates, and Louis’ eyes fly back up to his face. Harry is biting his lip, and Louis is hit with the realization of just how attractive Harry is once more. When his teeth release his lower lip, it’s even more red than it was before.

“Actually?” Louis prods when Harry doesn’t continue, needing to keep the conversation flowing in order to keep his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t.

Harry speaks slowly, is the thing. His words seem deliberate and careful, but the ample time between them is giving Louis far too much free time to gawk at him.

“It’s not exactly a, erm,” Harry pauses, seeming to think over his choice of words before finishing, “standard tattoo removal, if you will.”

Louis narrows his eyes, feeling himself tense slightly. There’s no way Harry is alluding to what Louis thinks he is. And yet, how else is it possible to have a tattoo removal that’s not standard?

“Oh?” Louis asks, his voice possibly a pitch higher than usual. He tries for the most obvious and probable reason. “Do you have a medical condition that interferes with the removal process? We can work around that.”

“No, it’s not that,” Harry pauses, looking thoughtful. “That’s incredible, though. Hadn’t occurred to me that that’s a problem you encounter.”

Louis shrugs. He supposes it is somewhat incredible. But there’s a much more pressing matter at hand.

“No,” Harry continues, lowering his voice to a whisper before further clarifying, “I heard you do soulmate tattoo removals here.”

Louis’ heart stops.

This is it. The end of his career as he knows it. And they’ve only been open for two weeks.

Louis opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “What?”

It’s not his most dignified moment, but in fairness there is both an extraordinarily attractive man in front of him and the threat of his hopes and dreams being ruined looming over his head. He’ll excuse it if he’s not his most composed self.

“I want my soulmate tattoo removed,” Harry repeats quietly, his wide green eyes genuine and imploring.

A new, even worse thought bubbles to the surface of the whirlwind of worry in Louis’ brain. What if Harry is secretly a cop? What if he had heard of Liam’s tattoo removal and is now here to arrest Louis?

Louis wills himself to unclench his jaw. He hadn’t noticed just how rigid his entire body had suddenly become. He forces a chuckle, shaking his head. He aims for casual, but when he speaks his voice is strained. “Where, might I ask, did you hear that this is the place to come?”

This is bad. This is terrible. If word is getting out that Louis is the one to go to for soulmate tattoo removals, then they’ve got a load of problems on their hands. How are they going to stop these rumors from circulating? How are they going to handle the inevitable police investigations? The court cases? How is he going to finish the job that he’s started on Liam’s tattoo if they get shut down?

“A friend,” Harry answers quietly. He’s still giving Louis a pleading look and for a grown man, his puppy dog eyes are impressively convincing.

“Say more,” Louis says flatly, wondering if he even has a shot at pretending that he doesn’t know what Harry is talking about. Surely there have been more than enough tells for Harry to know that he is spot on. Hell, maybe Louis needn’t worry that Harry might be an undercover cop. Surely if he was, Louis would already be in handcuffs.

The thought of Harry handcuffing him sends a small part of his mind in a very different direction, but thankfully the sound of Harry’s voice brings him back to the present almost immediately. He files the thought away for the next time he gets himself off, if this meeting with the green-eyed boy doesn’t lead to his ruin.

“My friend Hailey,” Harry says. "She was gushing about how happy she was that one of her friends might be able to get away from an abusive soulmate because of you. Liam, I think she said his name was? I don’t know him myself, but,” Harry shrugs, “thought it would be worth a shot to see if you’d do the same for me.”

“Listen,” Louis says lowly. He thinks for a moment about the phrasing of his next sentence before he speaks. “This thing that you say happened, which in fact may or may not be true, _if_ it was true-”

It’s admittedly not the most convincing approach.

“Look, Louis,” Harry interrupts him, shaking his head so violently that the swoop of his hair which has been styled upwards moves from side to side with the motion. “You can cut the legal bullshit. I’m not here trying to bust you. You and your business are in no way in danger at all. I’m just trying to find someone who can get this damned thing off me.”

“Harry, you have to understand,” Louis lowers his voice just above a whisper, squaring his shoulders determinedly. “We’re a new tattoo parlor and what _allegedly _happened with Liam would surely be a one-time thing, _if it happened_. I can’t have rumors spreading about this – you shouldn’t even be here.”

“If you’re worried about Hailey going and telling everybody, I can assure you that she won’t,” Harry says, sounding resigned. “She only told me because she knows I’ve been sticking my neck out lately trying to find someone, _anyone,_ who is willing to remove mine.”

Louis presses his lips together, nodding. He doesn’t know how much he trusts that to be true, but at least it sounds like the problem is mostly controlled. He and Liam will have to be more careful at their next session is all. And of course, he’ll make sure Liam and his friend know to do a better job of keeping their mouths shut.

“And I already know you’re a new tattoo parlor, because I’ve been to all of the others,” Harry tells him. “Every single one of them has laughed in my face and kicked me out.” He sighs. “Come on, we all know that even if something is illegal, it’s still happening under the radar. But no one will show me where.”

“It’s not a small crime, mate,” Louis says conversationally, raising an eyebrow. He’s still guarded, but his panic level has dropped back to as close as normal as he thinks it will get.

“And fuck that,” Harry all but snarls. “Can you believe the punishment for tampering with a tattoo is worse than the punishment for rape or assault? It’s fucked up.”

Louis hums in agreement, and there’s a lull in the conversation that he is undeniably at fault for.

“Are you…” Louis starts, and Harry’s green eyes snap to his with such intensity that Louis feels lightheaded. “Is your soulmate abusive?”

Harry considers for a moment, before answering wryly, “Would you do it if I said yes?”

Louis scoffs in lieu of answering, because he’s not entirely sure of the answer himself. “Answer the question, H.”

Harry leans back in his chair, tilting his head towards the ceiling thoughtfully. Louis most definitely does not stare at the column of his neck, does not imagine himself pressing kisses there, sucking until Harry with his molasses slow words and bass deep voice is groaning for more.

Jesus. Louis shakes his head to clear it, feeling his cheeks tinge pink. He’s usually much more controlled than this, even when faced with incredibly attractive men. There’s something about Harry drawing him in that he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s making his head swim.

“No,” Harry says, and there’s been such a long gap since Louis asked his initial question that it takes him a moment to catch up. “No, I don’t even know who my soulmate is yet. I hope they aren’t abusive, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.” Harry sits up straight again, leveling his gaze with Louis’.

Louis doesn’t say anything, but the unasked question floats in the air between them without him needing to voice it. Why would Harry want his soulmate tattoo removed if he hasn’t met his soulmate yet?

“Do you like to read?” Harry asks, abruptly changing the topic.

“Uhh, yes,” Louis answers, tilting his head slightly in confusion, “I suppose.”

He hasn’t done much reading lately other than reading out loud to his sisters when he visits home, but that doesn’t need to be said.

“What kinds of books?” Harry presses forward. “Adventure? Romance? Sci-fi?”

“Harry, what are you getting at?” Louis asks instead of answering. He might not have other clients to get to, but discussing book preferences with a man he’s almost certain he’ll never see again doesn’t seem like the most effective way to spend his Thursday afternoon.

“I’m a romantic,” Harry says simply, as if this explains everything.

When Louis continues to stare at him blankly, he elaborates.

“I want to fall in love with someone, you know? Go on dates. Buy them flowers,” Harry gives him a small smile, his eyes twinkling in the fluorescent light from the ceiling. “The lingering touches, the shy kisses, the overwhelming attraction. The whole deal. You know what I’m talking about. The build-up, the process, the whole act of _falling_ in love.”

Louis nods slowly, beginning to understand where Harry is coming from.

“Soulmates take that away,” Harry says, shrugging. “It’s an unfortunate side effect. You meet someone, you realize that you have matching ink on your body, and then that’s that. You don’t try to impress them, because you know that you don’t have to. It’s the end of the story, but it should be just the beginning.”

Louis gives Harry a sympathetic smile, responding gently, “But it’s still the person you were meant to end up with.”

“Is it?” Harry challenges. “How do you know that, if you’ve never been with anyone else because you were disinterested in anyone who didn’t have a tattoo that fits yours. How can you say that, when you’ve seen pairings like Liam’s?”

Louis doesn’t have an answer to that.

It’s quiet for a bit, save for the sound of the fan whirring in the corner.

“I want it to be up to me,” Harry says then, quietly. “I want to go out with guys that I thought I liked, and have them turn out to be assholes. I want to be able to go out with a friend, and realize there might be something more between us. I want to be able to meet people for who they are, and have experiences with them where the future of our relationship isn’t determined by a mark on our skin. I want to be able to form an opinion about people for myself, not have them judged ahead of time for me.”

“I see,” Louis says, and he does. He can understand why Harry wants what he does. But he can also understand why every tattoo parlor Harry has visited has laughed him out. Tampering with a soulmate tattoo is too serious of a charge to be undertaken for something as minor as wanting to be able to find love on one’s own.

Harry nods, but doesn’t say anything else.

Louis doesn’t either. He’s allowed his eyes to skim over Harry’s torso once more, solely out of curiosity regarding which tattoo is Harry’s soulmate tattoo. There’s quite a lot of options.

Harry waits, presumably to give Louis a chance to think over his decision. But in reality, there’s no decision to make. Harry seems like a decent guy, very likeable and startlingly genuine in a way that most people aren’t. And yet, it would be incredibly naïve of Louis to consider undertaking a second soulmate tattoo removal, especially for someone who is not in an urgent situation and is essentially a stranger.

“I’m not going to help you, Harry,” Louis says honestly, his tone apologetic. “You understand, I’m sure.”

Harry nods, looking resigned, but makes no move to leave.

After a moment, Louis asks, “Do you mind me asking which tattoo it is, just out of curiosity?”

Harry’s eyes meet his in an unwaveringly serious gaze. His lips twist into a smirk and his fingers make short work of his sheer shirt’s buttons, sliding the shirt off with ease. “Guess.”

Louis is pretty sure his brain flatlines for a moment, because Harry shirtless is a sight to behold. He’s more sculpted than his clothed frame suggests, muscles bulging now that they’ve been revealed. And he has so many tattoos, various shapes over his upper body. Louis’ eyes skim over the ink, trying to pass off his gaping as part of his job, as if he is simply taking in Harry’s tattoos. He sees an anatomical heart, two hands in a handshake, a star, and a rose, to name a few.

Then, he sees it. His eyes lock on the tattoo and he sucks in a sharp breath, unable to look away. His brain screeches to a halt, and not just because of the sight that is a half-naked Harry.

There, on Harry’s outer arm, is an intricate tattoo of a large ship. A large ship which perfectly complements the compass tattoo hidden on Louis’ own forearm.

“It’s that one.” Louis breathes, reaching out a shaky finger to point to the ship on Harry’s left outer arm.

“You’re sure?” Harry asks.

Louis nods. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

He has found his soulmate.

“Definitely.” Louis says, trying to still his trembling hands.

“You’re really good.” Harry tells him, impressed. Then he nods, confirming, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Louis swallows hard as his world crashes down around him. This explains the magnetic pull that he feels for Harry, the inability to control himself like he usually can, the magnified desire for him. He wonders if Harry feels anything at all, frantically tugging at his sleeve to make sure that his own complementary tattoo is safely hidden.

“No one else I’ve seen has been able to figure it out. One other parlor guessed which one but when I asked if he was sure, he changed his answer,” Harry says conversationally, smiling easily as if he hasn’t just turned Louis’ world upside down. “How’d you know?”

_Because it matches mine_, Louis thinks, still spiraling.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, Louis thinks hysterically. He isn’t supposed to be meeting his soulmate as he is trying to get the very tattoo that connects them removed.

Louis takes a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Harry’s eyes. It’s hard to think of him as he had been moments before, as nothing more than an attractive man who happened to want Louis’ illegal tattoo services. Now, his green eyes are the same eyes that could have looked back at him from across an altar, in another universe.

“Tattoos are my specialty,” Louis offers as a weak explanation. While this is true, it’s usually nearly impossible to distinguish soulmate tattoos from regular tattoos.

“I see,” Harry says.

Louis doesn’t know where to go from here. Does he still turn Harry away, knowing that Harry will continue to seek out other tattoo artists until he finds someone who will do the deed for him? Does he tell Harry that on his mission to find love without his soulmate tattoo’s influence, he has inadvertently discovered his soulmate? Does he take on the task of removing the soulmate tattoo of his own soulmate?

Louis forces himself to clear his throat, hoping that the way his eyes are glued to Harry’s tattoo again can be passed off as understandable for a tattoo artist.

But he can’t think of anything to say. He knows that Harry won’t want to know that they are soulmates and yet it’s the only thing on the tip of his tongue.

After a few minutes have passed, in which Louis’ head is still swimming and Harry is likely still hoping that Louis will agree to do the removal, Harry finally gives him a nod and stands. “Thanks for your time, Louis.” He extends a hand, a small white card slipped between his middle and ring finger. “In case you change your mind.”

Louis reaches out, nearly grabbing Harry’s hand instead of the proffered business card. He catches himself at the last moment, clutching onto the card with a bit more desperation than could have seemed normal.

“I’ll find a way,” Harry shrugs one shoulder, flashing him one last dimpled smile before heading towards the doorway. He pauses before letting the door swing shut behind him. Interpreting Louis’ silence as nerves, he pauses before letting the door swing shut behind him to add, “And don’t worry about me or Hailey. You’re in safe hands.”

Then, he’s gone.

Louis has just met his soulmate and he let him walk right out the door without saying a damned word.

Louis sits alone in his office for a moment after the door has clicked shut behind Harry, head reeling.

He just met his soulmate. His soulmate, who he felt so strongly pulled towards and yet who didn’t seem to be affected by Louis at all. His soulmate, who doesn’t want anything to do with him and wants to find love on his own.

Louis leans back in his chair and lets out a long sigh. He tries to think about something else, anything else, his eyes flitting around the office desperately for a distraction.

He hadn’t anticipated spending much time in his office, and still doesn’t. But he thinks it could use some upgrades. For one thing, the small fan chugging away determinedly in the corner needs to go. The constant whirring and sputtering is giving him a headache. Another, he seriously needs to start a stash of alcohol. A hard drink is the only thing he can think of that might improve the situation.

There’s a soft rapping on the door, followed by a squeak as it opens just enough for a blonde tuft of hair and bright blue eyes to peek through. “Everything okay in here?” A cheery Irish accent asks. “It’s not like you to sit around in your office quietly.”

“Hey Niall,” Louis gives him a tight smile.

“That meeting was the single longest meeting you’ve ever had,” Niall informs him. “Was it because you couldn’t find any open spaces on his skin for you to tattoo, and then in the process of searching, you realized how fit he was and had wild sex on your desk?”

Louis can’t help but chuckle a bit at that. “God, I wish,” he comments, shaking his head. He motions for Niall to shut the door behind him.

Niall obliges, looking nervous. “We’ve never had a serious, in-office, closed-door conversation,” he says. “Am I being fired?”

“Harry knows about the illegal operation we performed on Liam,” Louis says lowly. “He wanted a soulmate tattoo removal, too.”

Niall’s eyes widen.

“And,” Louis continues shakily, cutting off anything Niall might have said, “he’s my soulmate.”

Niall’s jaw slacks open. He doesn’t say anything at first, then, “Holy fucking shit.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees.

“That’s…wow. I’m so sorry, Louis,” Niall shakes his head slowly, processing the information.

Louis nods. Then, remembering what Niall had thought this conversation was going to be, “And no, of course you’re not fired. You’re doing great.”

Niall shrugs. “So. What are you going to do?”

Louis chews at his lip, a bad habit he picked up back in school. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“There’s nothing I should do,” he says, explaining, “Harry says he won’t tell anyone about Liam. And he doesn’t want to know who his soulmate is. He wants to fall in love with someone on his own.”

They’re both quiet for a moment.

“We’ve got to come up with some kind of code protocol for if you need help,” Niall breaks the silence, looking around the room. “You could say something casual to me, and I’ll pull the fire alarm or some shit. Or say that your next appointment is here. Or that there’s someone who urgently needs you.”

Louis smiles, feeling touched. “Sure. Yeah, okay. Maybe don’t pull the fire alarm though, I think that’ll trigger the sprinklers and soak everything.”

By the time Louis has to head out to see his next client, they’ve come up with varying levels of emergency codes. It doesn’t make much of a difference, but it calms Louis’ nerves more than he had expected it to.

“And about the soulmate thing,” Niall says as he heads towards the front desk. “Don’t think about it too much. You’ll run into him again. And again. And again. That’s kind of the point of being soulmates. Fate has a funny way of working things out.”

Louis nods, giving him a small smile and saying truthfully, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to not think about it, but I’ll try.”

The small rectangular piece of cardstock paper burns a hole in his pocket throughout the rest of the day.


	2. hidden gems and puzzle pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Liam breaks the law (twice), Niall is the subject of matchmaking (also twice), and Louis runs into his soulmate (more than twice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right on schedule! just a reminder - chapter updates should be coming at ya every two weeks :)

“Should I call?” Louis yells from where he is sprawled on the couch.

Liam is in the kitchen, outdoing himself by making what is the most extravagant meal that Louis will eat for a long time. Liam had felt horribly guilty about the trouble he had caused the tattoo parlor by telling Hailey, and even worse for being the reason that Louis met his soulmate in such a conflicting situation. Louis had tried to tell him that it was fate, but Liam wouldn’t hear of it. The only way to truly make it up to Louis, he had decided, was to cook him a grand apology meal.

It’s certainly not necessary, but Liam is just as stubborn as he is kind. When he gets something in his head, he follows through with it no matter what. Besides, Louis isn’t really complaining about being served a multi-course homemade meal.

“Not unless you know what you’re going to say,” Liam shouts back over the sound of something sizzling.

Louis ponders that, absently fiddling with the business card in his fingers. _Harry Styles_, the card reads_, amateur musician. Call to book for your next event!_ This is followed by a phone number, which Louis has entered into his phone under the cryptic contact name ‘H,’ followed by a ship emoji.

“I could ask him out on a date,” Louis thinks aloud.

He wonders how weird it would come across to Harry if he did so. Harry is probably only interested in him for his tattoo removal skills. Attempting any other sort of relationship between the two of them would seem strange, especially since Louis has refused to perform the tattoo removal service that Harry sought out.

“What if I remove the tattoo and _then_ ask him out on a date?” Louis tries again.

That might work. Harry would probably be more open to spending time with him once he’s agreed to remove the tattoo. And the removal process is a slow one – they’ll have time for quite a few dates in between.

“I think,” Liam calls out from the kitchen, “that you can’t remove the tattoo.”

Louis sighs. “I don’t _want_ to. But if he’s just going to get it removed anyways, wouldn’t we rather that the person removing it is me?”

“No,” Liam says flatly. “Especially if it’s true that he has been to every other parlor, asking for a soulmate tattoo removal. There’s probably a big red X over his head. Once he stops asking or if someone notices that his tattoo is gone, there are going to be questions. Lots of questions. And if he’s been seen around with you, a known tattoo artist, who do you think will be the first person that they investigate?”

“Me,” Louis answers dejectedly.

“And imagine if you two were _dating_,” Liam emphasizes. “If Harry, known for wanting his soulmate tattoo removed, is suddenly dating you, a tattoo artist – well, you don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to put those pieces together.”

“So, you’re saying that I can’t remove the tattoo and date him,” Louis says, standing up and wandering into the kitchen. “Fine, so back to square one. I won’t remove the tattoo, I’ll just ask him out.”

Liam is giving him his most sympathetic eyes, looking at him over a pan of roast duck. “Lou,” he says pityingly, “if he ever manages to get it removed, you’d be the top suspect. And even if you didn’t remove his tattoo illegally, you’re removing mine. Do you really think we’d be able to keep up the façade in the face of a police investigation?”

Louis shakes his head no. “So, I can’t contact him.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, brown eyes filled with sadness. “If you weren’t committing this crime for me, you’d be able to be with your soulmate without worrying.”

Louis sighs, rubbing Liam’s shoulder consolingly and trying not to sound bitter as he says, “Harry doesn’t want to be with me anyways, Li. He’s going to go out into the world and date people and try to find love on his own. Maybe someday fate will have us meet again. And besides, it’s worth it for you.”

Liam gives him a shy smile and proceeds to feed him a three course meal so decadent that he almost successfully pushes Harry Styles from his mind.

Later that night when Louis strips out of his skinny jeans and into his pyjama pants, the fateful business card falls to the floor, mocking him. He holds it out over the garbage bin, where he knows it should go; but after a moment of indecision, he tucks it away in his bedside drawer instead.

Just in case.

-

“You need to relax,” Niall had said. “You need to get out, get your mind off the tattoo parlor. It’ll be fun!”

Now, standing in the Buried Jewel, a bar that Niall had texted him the address to, Louis makes a mental note that anytime someone says “it will be fun,” it usually isn’t fun. The thing is, Louis had expected a wild night of alcohol and dancing. When Liam takes him out to get his mind off of things, it always ends in too many shots and a pounding hangover the next day. And that’s with _Liam, _who would be a strong candidate in the competition of most mundane interests ever. Louis once caught him repainting the walls in his room once with a stopwatch, to determine how long it actually takes for paint to dry. (The verdict was that it depends on multiple factors such as the temperature, humidity, and brand of paint, which is not something that Louis cared about nor needed to know.)

Niall is Irish. Louis knows for a fact that Niall could easily drink him under the table on any given day. He has heard plenty of stories of Niall’s wild nights out clubbing with friends. He feels that he’s not at fault for assuming when Niall had said they needed to go out tonight to clear his mind that something similar would be in store.

Buried Jewel, however, is certainly not that type of club. Instead, it is a cozy bar with a rustic vibe, the space mostly taken up by tables and chairs in front of a small stage where live musicians are performing. The group who is performing right now is decently good, but it’s slow, indie music rather than the grinding pop ballads Louis had expected.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:35 PM]

r u here? im near the front

Louis looks up from his phone, scanning the front row of tables for Niall. Sure enough, there’s a shock of blond hair at a table in the front, a bit to the left of center.

[To: Niall Horan 9:38 PM]

i see u. i’ll grab beers and join u

Niall replies with a smiley face.

Louis makes his way leisurely to the bar, glancing around at the people around him. The crowd is mostly his age, with a fairly even mixture of men and women. There isn’t anyone who catches Louis’ eye to stop and chat up, which is probably good for Niall since it means he doesn’t take too much time in ordering two beers.

There’s a round of applause just as the bartender asks what he wants, so it takes Louis a couple shouts to get his order across. He glances onstage to see the indie band that had been performing now standing and bowing. A new group takes the stage, but Louis doesn’t pay them much attention. His beers are ready and it takes a decent amount of focus to not spill them as he makes his way towards Niall’s table.

“Oh cheers, mate,” Niall greets him, enthusiastically grabbing for his beer.

There are two empty glasses on the table in front of him, but when Louis raises an eyebrow at the Irish lad he simply shrugs and says, “I got us both beers when I first got here, but you were kind of late.”

Louis was only _seven_ minutes late, thank you very much.

Still, Louis laughs at his friend and takes a seat next to him. “Wasn’t that late,” he defends himself, but there’s no argument to be had.

“Late enough,” Niall retorts, taking a swig of the beer. “You missed the most awesome girl band, ever.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in vague interest and gulps down his beer, maybe a bit too quickly. This isn’t the night that he had in mind, but he thinks he can enjoy it given enough alcohol.

“They were sick,” Niall continues to praise, pausing to watch the lad onstage for a moment. “This guy’s really good, too, actually.”

Louis can’t help but agree. He hadn’t paid attention to the introductions, so he doesn’t know his name, but the redhaired singer on stage right now is belting out catchy, folksy songs that make him want to get up and do a jig of some sort. However, Louis has next to no sense of rhythm and can’t dance unless twerking or a lot of shots are involved, so he remains planted in his seat.

Niall taps his foot along to the beat, flashing Louis a toothy grin. “I play here sometimes, you know.”

“Really,” Louis says, somewhat surprised. “What days?”

“Whenever I feel like it,” Niall answers unhelpfully. Then, “usually Mondays.”

“I’ll come see you sometime,” Louis promises. “Let me know.”

Niall gives him a sidelong glance, lips quirked upwards in a pleased smile. “Sure, Lou. You can bring Liam, too.”

Louis agrees.

“Thank you so much everybody!” The redhead on stage calls out after finishing off a love ballad with an emotional flourish. He stands and bows swiftly over his guitar, fumbling with it as he does so, and is quickly off the stage.

Louis joins Niall in clapping loudly, Niall putting his fingers in his mouth to let out a long, appreciative whistle.

“So how does it work?” Louis asks as the applause dies down. “There’s a lot of people playing tonight.”

“Tonight’s talent night,” Niall explains, nodding. “Usually the manager books you for an hour or so, and it’s just you and the audience for the whole time. But on Sundays, it’s anyone’s night. You sign up on that sheet over there,” Niall points to a piece of paper tacked up on the far wall, “and everyone gets ten minutes or so to play. They aren’t very strict on time limit,” Niall shrugs. “I’ve done it before, but now that the manager knows me I don’t usually have much trouble getting a full hour slot.”

Louis opens his mouth to ask another question, but whatever he was going to say falls flat as another voice cuts through the air, deep and slow.

“Hi everybody.” It’s familiar, warm, and the words come so slowly that Louis manages to take two deep breaths and a long, steadying swig of beer before he finishes his sentence. “My name is Harry Styles. I’ve got a couple of songs for you.”

Harry Styles, amateur musician, has just taken the stage. Harry Styles, Louis’ soulmate, is again in the same room as him.

In retrospect, Louis probably should have seen this coming.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters under his breath, hearing Niall curse similarly alongside him, although much less quietly.

“I didn’t know, I swear,” Niall says, blue eyes wide. “We can leave, if you want? Yeah, c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Louis shakes his head slowly, sinking down in his seat in what he hopes is an inconspicuous way. “Do you think he’ll see us if we stay?”

Niall considers this, but Harry has already started strumming on his guitar and really there’s no decision to make. Louis isn’t leaving.

“The stage lights are pretty bright,” Niall tells him. “It’s hard to see faces in the audience unless you’re really trying to.”

It would be a comforting sentence if Louis had bothered to listen to it. But as it is, he’s completely captivated by the wonder that is Harry Styles.

Harry is in an outrageous suit, looking somewhere between a rock star and a groomsman. It’s bright pink, but somehow he looks incredibly good in it.

“Do you think I could pull off a suit like that?” Niall muses aloud.

Louis shushes him, smacking his hand absently at his friend’s face for a moment before successfully covering his mouth. He doesn’t think anyone could make the suit look as good as Harry does, but that might be a biased opinion.

More importantly, Harry’s singing voice is lovely. Louis doesn’t know why he didn’t see it coming, what with how deep and slow Harry’s speaking voice is, but he somehow didn’t predict this. Harry’s voice rolls smoothly over the lyrics as he sings, and the result is truly a work of art.

“Jesus. He’s got a _voice_,” Niall says appreciatively, the words somewhat muffled by the presence of Louis’ hand still on his face.

“Shh,” Louis hisses, watching Harry in awe.

He’s giving it his all, Louis can tell. There’s a furrow of concentration in his brow, even as he smiles wide for the audience. Louis can see a bead of sweat making its way down his forehead, the way the muscles in his neck strain as he belts out certain notes. For this small bar, this small audience, Harry is performing like he’s on the stage of a famous arena. And he looks like he’s having the time of his life. There’s something real in his grin, the indent of his dimples, the light in his eyes. Harry looks happy.

“He looks so happy,” Louis murmurs aloud, after the song as Harry is taking a quick sip of water.

“Adrenaline from performing,” Niall says wisely.

Louis wonders if he could ever make Harry that happy.

Harry performs two more songs, one a rock ballad in which he showcases his impressive vocals and the other a gentle ballad that makes Louis unreasonably jealous of some woman in his life from Carolina.

Once he’s finished, Harry thanks the audience easily, smiling wide. He bows, stumbles over his own feet, thanks them again, and dismounts the stage, guitar slung over his back as he makes his way towards the bar.

Louis hadn’t bothered to pay attention to any of the other performers after they got off of the stage. He doesn’t know if they joined the crowd, went home, or stayed by the bar to be bought drinks by those who enjoyed their music. But he lets himself watch as Harry meanders over to the bar and orders a drink that’s colored nearly as pink as his suit. He doesn’t get much attention from other patrons at the bar, just a clap on the back from the redhaired performer from earlier, who he eagerly clinks his glass with in a toast.

“I could go ask him out,” Louis voices his thoughts quietly. It’s barely above a whisper, easily overshadowed by the new singer onstage who is belting out a pop ballad, but Niall still hears him.

“Bad idea,” Niall reminds him, looking a little worried, “Didn’t you just list to me yesterday at work all the reasons why you cannot do that?”

Louis shrugs. “Fine. I can still go talk to him, though.”

“No,” Niall says warningly. “No, Louis you can’t associate with him at all. You’re going to set a trail for the police and then they’ll find out about,” Niall lowers his voice, glancing around them subtly before whispering, “_Liam_.”

Louis frowns. He wants to talk to Harry. Harry is beautiful, and he can sing, and he has a ship on his arm. Louis is possibly too drunk to be making rational decisions.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” he informs Niall, standing up decisively.

“_Louis_,” Niall hisses, grabbing his arm to pull him back into his chair, “No.”

Louis huffs and crosses his arms, but lets himself be forcibly sat down.

Satisfied, Niall resumes nursing his next beer. He’s still sneaking glances to check on Louis though, and that just won’t do.

Louis glances around them, spying a pretty brunette in a tight dress sitting at the table just behind them. When Niall is focused on a new act onstage, he slips her twenty pounds to distract his Irish friend for the next twenty minutes and slips off to the bar.

-

“Hey,” Louis says, sliding into the conveniently open stool at the bar next to Harry. He motions to the bartender for another beer before turning his attention to his soulmate, seated at his right.

“Oh,” Harry blinks at him, understandably surprised, “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, motioning towards where Niall is chatting up the bribed brunette. “My friend Niall plays here some days. He brought me.”

“First time then?” Harry asks, words syrup slow. Louis can’t help but observe how good he looks, the post-performance high clearly still running through his veins. “Do you like it?”

“Love it,” Louis tells him honestly. “It isn’t quite what I was expecting, but it turns out that’s a really good thing. You were fantastic, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, raising his glass in acknowledgement before taking a sip. “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“You’re going to be proper famous, someday,” Louis tells him. “Your voice is amazing.”

Harry looks amused, and Louis is struck suddenly by how odd this must be to him. If the roles were reversed, Louis certainly wouldn’t expect to be approached after a small performance by a tattoo artist that had rejected him, and with whom he had only interacted with for at most ten minutes.

“Sorry, I realize this is a bit weird,” Louis voices his thoughts, “but when I recognized you on stage, I just had to come tell you how great you were.”

Harry chuckles lowly, giving him a hopeful smile. “No change of mind regarding the tattoo then?”

Louis shakes his head firmly. “Sorry, mate.” Then, jokingly, “Maybe once you’re famous I’ll reconsider.”

Harry laughs a little, shrugging one shoulder. “Figured you’d say that, but I just had to ask.”

“Yeah,” Louis says, and then it’s quiet. Louis takes a sip of his beer, trying to think of anything to say besides, “_Will you go out to dinner with me?_” Nothing comes.

“Good seeing you again, though,” Louis says instead, hoping it comes across as genuine rather than simply polite.

“Berry good to see you too,” Harry says, grinning widely. There’s a raspberry from his drink between his teeth, and it’s the worst joke Louis has heard in a long time. It’s adorable.

“Stick to singing,” Louis deadpans, “Comedy’s not your thing.”

Harry sucks the raspberry into his mouth, throwing his head back as he laughs. He is beautiful and Louis wants to kiss him more than anything.

He doesn’t, though. Instead, he picks up his beer, orders another for Niall, and tips his head goodbye to Harry as he heads back down to where his friend is waiting.

“Got you another drink,” he tells Niall as he sits down, smiling at the brunette to indicate that she can leave. She doesn’t.

Niall leaves the bar with her number and a date planned for the following week. Louis fully intends on taking the credit if things work out between them.

-

Grand opening preparations start the next week.

It’s a good time for it, Louis thinks. He admittedly doesn’t know much about grand openings, but business at the tattoo parlor has been relatively steady and he and Niall have all but mastered scheduling their current customers. The thing about the tattoo business is that although you have some regular customers who want lots of tattoos, most only ever come in once or twice. Getting the word out is the next step necessary for success, and a grand opening is an excellent way to do so.

“So you already made the graphic and we’ve submitted it to be advertised on Facebook and Instagram,” Louis says, Niall nodding in affirmation. “And we’ve also got printed ads coming out in three of the local papers and in a coupon magazine.”

Niall gives him a thumbs up. “Yep. And I’ve made a few versions of different flyers for us to post around town, too.”

Louis nods. “Perfect, yeah. I’ll get those printed tonight after work and we can start posting them whenever we have time.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “And that’s it then, right?”

“In terms of advertising, sure,” Niall says. “But you’ve also got to think about decorating for the grand opening. At the very least, you’ll need a giant sign that says ‘Grand Opening!’. You might need to get the event cleared with the city if you’re planning on having an afterparty type thing. And decorations, catering, alcohol. The works.”

“Shit,” Louis lets out a breathless laugh. “I guess I got so caught up in trying to attract people to the grand opening that I forgot about the event itself.”

“We can split up the work,” Niall shrugs. “I’ll cover decorating and alcohol. You cover food and regulations?”

Louis smiles. “You’re great, Niall.”

“I am,” Niall agrees jokingly. “Best receptionist in town.”

“Just one last thing,” Louis says thoughtfully. “What sort of food would you expect to have at a grand opening?”

Niall winces, like he knows that the answer he has is one that Louis won’t like. “Pizza?”

Louis frowns. “What sort of food would you expect to have at an _awesome_ grand opening?”

“Tacos? Burgers?” Niall offers.

Louis presses his lips together thoughtfully. “All three?”

“The more the merrier,” Niall agrees, shrugging. “Free food is good food, doesn’t matter too much what it is.”

-

The restaurant hostess is thoroughly unimpressed with him.

“You want catering of tacos, burgers, and pasta? None of those are on our standard catering plans.” The woman - Genevieve, her nametag says - informs him.

“They’re on your menu, though,” Louis points out.

“This is a classy restaurant, Mr. Tomlinson,” she reminds him, as if he needed to be reminded. The entryway to the restaurant is a foyer, decorated with maroon carpeting and a giant bouquet of flowers in the center. A glass chandelier hangs overhead, providing a gentle glow over the room. “Perhaps you should ask for catering from McDonald’s or Taco Bell.”

She sniffs derisively as she says it, but Louis seriously considers it for a moment. “No, no,” Louis decides, shaking his head. “This is going to be a classy event,” he assures her, “but I need finger-food catered. Do you do specialty wraps or something?”

“Your options include roasted chicken and potatoes, salmon and vegetables, or for vegetarians, tofu soufflé,” she says, blue eyes bored and dismissive.

Louis makes a face. “Not _that_ classy.”

“If you’d like, I can call the chef out here so that you can speak with him,” Genevieve tells him, shrugging. “But he’s a character. Very particular about food. I doubt he’d agree to make such,” she grimaces rather than using a verbal description, but it gets the point across clearly, “dishes.”

“You called?” A deep voice asks, as a man in a chef’s hat bursts out through a set of swinging double doors which lead from the main entrance to the kitchen.

“Shit,” Louis mutters under his breath. It’s a voice he’s starting to know all too well. Harry Styles, amateur musician, is apparently also an expert chef.

“Louis!” Harry looks thoroughly surprised, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised high. He smiles, looking almost pleased to see him. “I’ve been seeing you quite a lot lately, haven’t I?”

“It’s good to see you too,” Louis says, chuckling. “I didn’t know you worked here. I didn’t know you could _cook_.”

For some reason – which is definitely not Louis’ own inability to use any cooking appliance without causing a minor disaster – Louis assumes all men of his age are equally incapacitated in the kitchen. He knows this isn’t true, take Liam for example, but the impression sticks with him regardless. He is fairly certain Niall lives exclusively off of takeout, so at least he isn’t always wrong.

Harry is looking at him curiously, a quirked smile playing at his lips. “Yes, well,” he says, “this is only the third time we’ve met. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, I’d imagine.”

That’s fair. Louis wants to get to know him, though. And Harry has just set him up with the perfect opportunity to ask him out on a date. He knows he shouldn’t do it, knows there’s a tattoo of a ship inked on Harry’s arm underneath his white smock that he desperately wants removed.

Louis shakes his head to clear it, averting his eyes quickly from Harry’s bicep. “Let’s get to know each other then,” he says coyly. “Starting with, how do you feel about cooking a large amount of your finest finger food for my tattoo parlor’s grand opening party?”

“A favor for a favor?” Harry asks, smiling innocently.

Genevieve turns to Harry, her expression just as impassive as before. “Did you really just ask him for a blowjob, right in front of me?”

Harry and Louis both look at her in confusion.

“Not that kind of favor,” Louis defends.

“It was _one _time,” Harry says at the same time.

Louis blinks.

“I’m leaving now,” Genevieve announces. She turns to Louis before she leaves. “Word of advice, don’t piss him off before your event. He put extra jalapenos in everything he made for an event that his ex was attending once.”

“That was also only _one_ time,” Harry insists, sounding petulant.

Genevieve looks unconvinced, but she gives Harry a pat on the back and disappears into the restaurant.

“He deserved it,” Harry informs Louis.

Louis nods slowly. He can’t help but think that this doesn’t bode well for him. If Harry is the vengeful type, asking him to cater a special meal yet not agreeing to remove his tattoo sounds like a bad idea.

“I’m sure,” Louis says agreeably, before starting to excuse himself as gracefully as possible. “Anyways, thanks for your time. It was cool to see where you work.”

“Hey, I was joking about the favor thing,” Harry says before Louis has finished turning around. “I’ll do it. But you don’t get to choose what types of finger food.”

Louis thinks on that for a moment. “Nothing revengefully spicy?” He asks, trying to keep the worried edge out of his voice.

“Nope,” Harry assures him. “Only the best for Tommo’s Tats’ grand opening.”

Louis wonders if hiring Harry as a caterer is an interaction that the police would look into. He thinks he can pass it off as a coincidence. It _is_ a coincidence, he reminds himself. Sure, Harry is his soulmate. Sure, he looks hot as hell in a chef’s smock. But Louis hadn’t picked this restaurant because of that. He hadn’t known that Harry worked here. It was simply the place with the highest number of stars on Yelp that was still within the two dollar sign price range.

“Deal,” Louis says.

They shake on it, for no other reason besides Harry not knowing the protocol for setting up a catering transaction (“I only work in the kitchen, I don’t usually handle these things.”), and if their hands linger for a little too long, no one has to know.

-

Louis is sweating as he walks into the police station.

It’s swelteringly hot outside, and his nerves aren’t doing anything to help the situation. He had given himself a five-minute pep talk in the car, which had resulted in him chugging a bottle of ice water to no avail.

“They don’t suspect anything,” Louis had hissed to himself repeatedly in the driver’s seat, the car radio playing quietly in the background. “Don’t give them any reason to.”

“Hi, can I help you?” A voice asks politely.

Louis puts on his most sincere smile, hoping everything about him conveys that he is a respectable, law-abiding citizen.

“Hi,” he says, looking around the small station.

The room is large, but it seems to be nearly the only room that the building consists of. There are desks in two rows, forming an aisle between them, with various officers at each desk typing away on their computers. In the far back, there is another room on a second floor so that it can oversee the rest of the space. Louis presumes that’s where their chief’s office is. At the very front of the room, where Louis is, there is a main desk for directing civilians who enter. The girl at the desk is smiling at him patiently, and Louis realizes she has been waiting for him to speak.

“Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to get clearance for an event that I’m planning to hold,” Louis tells her, hoping he is the image of a model citizen right now.

“Perfect,” she says, tucking a lock of silvery blonde hair behind her ear. “Not everyone remembers to do that. We appreciate you coming in.”

Louis nods, forcing another smile. “Sure, no problem.”

“Here’s the paperwork,” she hands him a stack of forms. “If you head over to Officer Malik’s desk to fill them out, he’ll help you get them finalized once he’s back from his break.”

Louis nods, taking the papers from the girl and walking over to the desk as directed. He takes a seat in the chair in front of it, hesitates before taking a pen from the cup on the desk to use, and props up his leg as he begins filling out the forms.

It’s all very standard information – what day and time the event is, whether or not there will be minors, whether or not alcohol will be served, the noise level anticipated, and such. Louis is just finishing signing in agreement that he is responsible for any damage caused by the event and that he will handle clean-up of any and all debris from the event that is found on and off of his property, when he is joined by another man.

“Hello,” the officer says, his voice surprisingly smooth considering how strongly he reeks of cigarettes. “Can I help you?”

“Officer Malik,” Louis greets him, reaching out to shake his hand. “I was told to fill out some forms here to get official clearance for an event I’m holding.”

“Call me Zayn,” Officer Malik tells him. He extends a hand to shake Louis’, the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt rising a little higher on his arm with the motion.

The first thing Louis notices about Zayn is that he is the same cop who had visited the tattoo parlor on that first day that he had started the process of removing Liam’s tattoo. The second thing Louis notices about him is his soulmate tattoo.

It’s an outline of a puzzle piece, located on the inner side of his right elbow. Louis has seen a matching tattoo nearly every day for a few weeks now.

“Zayn,” he says quietly, grabbing Zayn’s hand instead of shaking it. They’re holding hands over Zayn’s desk now, and the other man has a mildly uncomfortable look on his symmetrical face. Louis gently rotates Zayn’s arm, reaching up with both hands to hold Zayn’s forearm. He points to the puzzle tattoo, asking seriously, “Just to confirm, is that your soulmate tattoo?”

Zayn’s mouth opens a little in shock. Now that he knows what Louis is on about, he willingly rolls up the sleeve of his shirt further, twisting his arm so that Louis can have a better look.

“Are you my soulmate?” Zayn asks, brown eyes wide and genuine, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

“Not me,” Louis tells him gently, feeling somewhat bad as Zayn’s face falls.

“Oh,” Zayn says, visibly disappointed, “you can just tell because you’re a tattoo artist, then?”

“Well, there’s that,” Louis shrugs, “plus I know who your soulmate is.”

Zayn’s eyes light up once more. “Really?”

It’s endearing. Louis can’t help but smile, too. “Really.”

“Who is it?” Zayn asks eagerly.

“Malik,” a stern voice interrupts them, a man that Louis hadn’t noticed approach them now towering over the desk. “Are you working hard, or hardly working?”

“Working hard, chief,” Zayn grumbles, grabbing for Louis’ forms and hurriedly beginning to stamp them off.

Louis waits until the chief has given an approving nod and moved on before saying in a hushed voice, “Niall, the receptionist at my tattoo parlor.”

“Niall,” Zayn echoes thoughtfully. “Oh, the blonde? Seriously? He’s gorgeous.”

Louis laughs aloud, pleased. He likes Zayn already, and thinks he’ll be good for Niall.

“I can’t believe we’re soulmates,” Zayn says, smiling so widely that he looks out of place in the grim police station. “And we’ve even met once before and didn’t realize!”

“Funny how fate works, innit?” Louis muses.

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, entering something in on his computer. “Anyways, your event is good to go. Do you think I can come to the parlor with you now to tell him?”

“He’s off for the day already,” Louis says, shaking his head, “and I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to show up unannounced at his apartment. But,” Louis snaps his fingers as a thought comes to him, “it’s Monday. He told me he sometimes plays guitar at a small bar downtown, if you want to see if he’s there.”

“Yes, definitely,” Zayn agrees immediately. Then, he backtracks. “As long as you don’t think he’ll mind. If it’s like, a private thing, I can always come by the shop tomorrow instead. Waiting one more day can’t hurt.”

“Nah, how could he mind meeting his soulmate?” Louis asks. “As long as you feel ready, you’re more than welcome to come. I’ll bring my friend Liam along. It’ll be fun.”

They swap numbers without Zayn’s boss noticing, and Louis heads out of the station a few minutes later. There’s a new number in his phone, a signed permit in his hand, and he’s on his way to help Niall meet his soulmate.

-

“You _what_?” Liam demands crossly from the passenger seat of Louis’ car.

To be fair, Louis didn’t do a very good job of filling him in before he agreed to get in the car.

Also, it hadn’t occurred to him until this moment that it could be a problem that Niall’s soulmate is a police officer. He sincerely hopes Niall isn’t the type to have zero secrets from his soulmate. He wonders if having united Zayn with his soulmate will be enough of a favor to counter the amount of jailtime his current crime amounts to. Which is, for life. So, probably not.

Louis swallows.

“I hired Harry as a caterer and made plans for us to go watch Niall’s show with a police officer.” Louis repeats, acting more calmly than he feels. He signals and changes lanes easily before giving Liam an innocent look. “The cop is his _soulmate,_ Liam, how could I not invite him to Niall’s performance with us?”

“I have a tampered soulmate tattoo on my arm right now,” Liam all but screeches. “You are the one who tampered with it. And you invited a cop to join us?”

Louis doesn’t say anything to that, waving for a pedestrian to cross the street.

Then, once the woman has safely crossed, “We’re also, uh, giving him a ride.”

“We’re _what_?”

“Speaking of which, can you pull up the GPS?” Louis asks, giving Liam a winning smile.

Liam only grumbles a little more about it, rolling down his sleeve to cover the faded feather on his arm. Louis is truly lucky that Liam values safe driving so highly. He makes a mental note to always tell Liam bad news while he’s driving. This could have gone much worse.

They pull up to a decently posh apartment building a few minutes later.

“You have arrived,” Siri announces from Liam’s phone.

“Right on time,” Louis fist pumps, glancing at the car clock.

Sure enough, Zayn comes out the front door of the building a moment later.

He’s dressed up, or rather down, considering he’s always been in a uniform when Louis has seen him. Now, in artfully ripped jeans and a dark button-up shirt, he looks casual yet formal at the same time. His hair has been gelled deliberately upwards, and although there’s a stray strand that falls onto his forehead, the overall look is impeccably put together.

“See?” Louis nudges Liam to get his attention. “You don’t look ridiculous in long sleeves. Zayn’s wearing long sleeves too.”

“Oh,” Liam says in surprise as he peers through the windshield to get a better look at the approaching figure. He’s either no longer angry or doing an excellent job of hiding his rage. “You didn’t say it was the same cop from that one day.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis shrugs, tooting the car horn twice quickly in greeting to Zayn and unlocking the doors for him. “You didn’t really let me get a word in edgewise.”

Liam glares daggers at him.

So he’s just hiding his anger then. Well, he’s doing a remarkable job of it.

“And later,” Liam hisses, “we’ll talk about the catering thing.”

“Hey, Zayn!” Louis greets Zayn as cheerfully as possible, effectively directing the conversation away from his problematic soulmate as Zayn pulls open the rear door. “You look good, man.”

Zayn smiles somewhat shyly. “Thanks, Lou.”

“Lou?” Liam mouths incredulously to Louis. Louis doesn’t need Liam to voice anything further; he knows what his friend is thinking. _You’re on nickname terms with a _cop?

The answer is apparently yes.

“And you bought flowers,” Louis notes, eyeing the bouquet of red roses in Zayn’s hand. He wonders if Harry would like flowers. As a self-proclaimed romantic, Louis thinks that he probably would.

“Is it too much?” Zayn asks nervously.

“Definitely not,” Louis assures him. “Niall will love it. This is Liam, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zayn says politely.

Liam nods stiffly. “Likewise.”

Luckily, Zayn seems to be too caught up thinking about the upcoming meeting with his soulmate to notice Liam’s tense demeanor. With a swift motion of his wrist, Louis turns up the radio to detract from the awkward silence and pulls away from the kerb.

The ride to the bar is quiet. Liam is likely petrified by the fact that a cop is seated directly behind him, refusing to start a conversation out of fear of letting something slip that he shouldn’t. Zayn is twisting at his lip, staring out the window, probably in thought about what he’s going to say to Niall in a few minutes.

Louis doesn’t mind. It gives him time to think about how Niall’s soulmate being a cop factors into his situation. It could be a good thing. He wonders if Zayn could deflect attention from him if he is wrongfully suspected for removing Harry’s tattoo. But then again, it could be a very bad thing. What if Niall tells Zayn that Louis is removing Liam’s tattoo? Zayn could have him thrown in prison for life. He doubts Zayn’s loyalty to Niall, and by extension Louis, would run deeper than his vow to uphold the law. There’s no way that Zayn wouldn’t take action if he found out.

Louis glances worriedly at Zayn in the rearview mirror as he pulls into a parking spot outside the bar. Liam is right, he thinks. This was probably a terrible idea.

Terrible for _him_, he reminds himself. Selfishly, this is objectively an awful idea. But for Niall, this is a really good thing. As a good friend, it’s the best thing he could have done.

“Here we are,” Louis announces, unclicking his seatbelt and hopping out of the car.

“Oh god,” Liam mumbles, sounding like he’s going to be sick.

“You alright?” Zayn asks, getting out of the car and swinging open Liam’s door for him. “You look a little green, mate.”

Liam blinks up at Zayn, swallowing hard. “I, uh,” he risks a glance at Louis, fear etched into face, “I have to confess something to you.”

Louis feels himself tense up. Liam hasn’t even spent fifteen minutes in Zayn’s company. He knew his friend wasn’t a great at deception, but surely he can do better than this.

“Liam,” Louis says, alarmed. He thinks frantically for a moment, needing to give Liam an out. “Did you get carsick again?”

Liam shakes his head, looking sheepishly at Zayn. When he speaks, his voice is trembling and barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt.”

Louis stares at his friend for a moment, then lets out a long exhale of relief.

Zayn looks blankly at Liam. When he processes what Liam means, his expression morphs into disbelief and then into glee. He laughs loudly, clapping Liam on the back. “Don’t worry, I’m off duty,” he tells Liam, “and we’re mates now, aren’t we? I wouldn’t get you for that.” After a pause, “It is in the best interest of your safety, though.”

“I know,” Liam says quickly, looking distressed. “I usually always wear my seatbelt.”

“You two are a couple of goody-two-shoes, aren’t you?” Zayn teases, shaking his head in wonder. “Louis coming in earlier to get all his paperwork in order to throw the tiniest party in the history of parties-”

“_Hey_,” Louis interjects.

“And now Liam all guilty over not wearing a seatbelt for a ten-minute ride through town,” Zayn grins. “Well, at least I know you two won’t be pulling off any major crimes anytime soon.”

He chuckles to himself, and Louis and Liam join in weakly.

_If only he knew_, Louis thinks to himself as he locks the car.

“Well,” Louis says, clapping his hands to get their attention and desperately changing the subject. “Let’s go unite you lovebirds then, shall we?”

Zayn straightens up, adjusting his shirt and inspecting the flowers in his hand before nodding eagerly. “Let’s.”

Niall is onstage when they enter the bar, singing one of his better known pop songs. Louis knows it well anyways, has heard Niall play it hundreds of times while sat at the reception desk.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Louis tells Zayn, patting his shoulder encouragingly.

“Good luck!” Liam calls out as Louis grips his bicep and drags him forcibly to the bar.

“Drinks are on you,” Louis informs him, “for giving me a heart attack just now.”

Liam shakes his head stubbornly. “Drinks on you,” he counters, “for inviting a cop along with us tonight.”

Louis sighs, motioning to the bartender for two beers. “Fine,” Louis relents, “one round each, then.”

Liam’s eyes go wide then, and he all but knocks Louis’ beer away from him as the bartender sets it down. “You’re _driving_.”

“One beer won’t hurt,” Louis says, rolling his eyes.

“You’re driving home a _cop_,” Liam insists, shaking his head seriously.

“You drive then,” Louis snaps, taking the beer and chugging nearly half of it in one go as Liam watches in horror.

Liam makes a face, pushing the other beer towards him. “You’re a child, you know.”

Louis knows.

“Let’s go get a table. We’re here to support Niall after all,” Liam says, and he leads the way to a table in the back. It’s not an ideal seat, but it’s one of the only ones that are available with a decent view of the stage.

As Niall finishes off the song he’s singing, they let out a raucous cheer. Niall nods in their direction, saying into the microphone, “Sounds like my fan club has arrived, aye?”

He begins his next song, and someone pulls up a chair to their table. It’s Zayn, looking absolutely enamored.

“He’s so _good_,” Zayn says, all but gushing. “His voice is incredible. And he wrote the songs himself, too. They’re catchy.”

“Is this what I sounded like, when Harry performed?” Louis murmurs lowly to Liam, who nods and rolls his eyes.

“Niall tells me you were worse,” Liam says, glancing nervously at Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t seem to be listening to them though, eyes wide and focused entirely on Niall.

As Liam watches Zayn, he seems to relax a bit. Sure enough, when Louis looks over at their new cop friend, there is a soft smile on his lips and his gaze is locked dreamily to the stage.

“He seems sweet,” Liam whispers to Louis, sounding approving.

“Yeah, I think he’s a good guy,” Louis agrees, taking a sip of his beer. “He was so excited when I told him that I recognized his soulmate tattoo.”

They’re quiet then, listening to Niall perform and thinking. Louis isn’t sure, but he’d be willing to bet money that Liam is thinking the same thing he is. Why couldn’t they have soulmates like that?

Niall finishes off the ballad, and a loud applause thunders through the bar.

“Damn,” Louis comments, loud enough for both Liam and Zayn to hear over the clapping. “Last time I was here, there was only a scattered applause for each performer. This is almost like a concert – everyone loves him.”

“Good for him,” Liam says, grinning. “He’s doing incredible.”

Zayn beams. “Yes he is,” he agrees, sounding proud.

Louis frowns at Zayn, but the dark-haired man isn’t paying him any mind. “They’re going to be a disgustingly cute couple, aren’t they?” He says to Liam.

Liam laughs, taking in Zayn’s wide smile. “Yeah, probably.”

They’re mostly quiet for the rest of Niall’s show, with the exception of cheering as loudly as they can after each song. When Niall finishes off his last song, the applause in the bar is so loud that Louis can barely hear Niall thanking everyone through the microphone.

Quite a few people run up to Niall as he is dismounting the stage, which isn’t something that Louis would notice if it wasn’t for Zayn’s nerves.

“Do I go up to greet him, too?” Zayn asks them anxiously. “Or should I wait here? Maybe I should move closer to the front, but hover. Or I could wait at the bar to buy him a drink. Or-”

“Zayn,” Louis says firmly. “Get it together. You’ve got this. Just stay here, it’ll be fine. He’ll make his way over here soon.”

Zayn nods, clamping his mouth shut and twisting his lip nervously as Niall talks cheerfully with some other audience members.

“Here he comes,” Liam announces quietly as Niall’s gaze falls on their table and he gives them a wave, starting to move through the crowd towards them. It’s not necessary for him to have said it though; Zayn’s eyes have been glued to Niall for the past hour and it doesn’t seem like this will change anytime soon.

“What if he doesn’t want to meet me?” Zayn mumbles, looking worried. “What if-”

“Niall!” Louis hollers as his friend gets closer, cutting off Zayn’s spiraling. “Mate, you were spectacular.”

Niall’s cheeks are flushed with adrenaline and the answering grin he gives them is wider than his smiles usually are. He looks happy, similar to how Harry had looked after his performance the last time Louis came to this bar.

“Yeah, you were awesome,” Liam agrees, smiling. “Everyone loved you.”

“Thanks, guys,” Niall says, beaming. “I’m really glad you all liked it.”

“You were really, really good,” Zayn chimes in finally, voice soft and eyes wide. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Oh, really?” Niall looks surprised, glancing to Louis and Liam before directing his toothy grin at Zayn, joking, “I didn’t think I was big enough to have proper fans yet.”

Zayn nods seriously, a shy smile on his lips. “Well, I’d like to be your number one fan, if you’d let me.” Then, he stands, lifting the bouquet of roses from where he had set them at his side and offering them to Niall with his right arm.

Niall looks confused but flattered. Then, his eyes latch onto the tattoo on the arm Zayn is holding out to him, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Holy shit,” Niall swears in disbelief, a smile spreading on his face. He takes the roses from Zayn with one hand, grabbing gently for his arm with the other and stepping closer to look at the puzzle piece inked there. He stares at Zayn’s arm, lifting his own up for comparison, and then brings his gaze to meet Zayn’s, stammering, “Y-You’re… we’re…”

“Soulmates,” Zayn finishes for him, smiling gently.

Niall’s grin grows impossibly wider, and he shakes his head in awe. “Soulmates,” he echoes.

“Uh. I’m just going to go to the loo,” Liam says quietly, excusing himself and quickly walking towards the back of the bar.

Louis glances at Liam’s retreating figure, then at Niall and Zayn, who are now standing so closely that they might as well be one person. Liam has the right idea, he thinks to himself.

“I’m going to get another drink,” Louis says, patting Niall on the back and flashing him a wink before walking away as well.

He fistpumps to himself as he approaches the bar, grinning and ordering another beer. Zayn was so smooth. That had gone even better than he had imagined it.

“A beer,” the bartender says, placing the glass on the bar in front of him.

Louis nods in thanks, lifting the glass to take a swig.

“Having a good time?” A deep voice asks, and Louis nearly chokes on his drink.

“Harry?” He asks as he coughs, spinning around to face the owner, who is indeed Harry Styles, amateur musician and expert chef.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, though Louis isn’t entirely sure what for. “You mentioned the last time I ran into you here that it was your first time, so I was just glad to see that you came back.”

“Oh, yeah,” Louis nods, smiling, “Niall was the one performing tonight, so I came out to show support.”

“He was great,” Harry praises earnestly. “He’s got a beautiful way of writing songs that touch the heart.”

Louis stares at Harry for a moment, taken aback by the genuine comment. “I’ll, uh- I’ll tell him that you said that.”

Harry nods, lips curling upwards in a smile. Then, he turns to the bartender to order himself a drink as well.

Louis takes another sip of beer, watching Harry uncertainly. The man is in a sheer white shirt patterned with dark outlined hearts, black ripped skinny jeans, and Chelsea boots. He looks good, as per usual, his hair swept upwards neatly.

Harry turns, a colored drink now in his hand, and raises an eyebrow as he catches Louis staring at him.

Louis blushes, ducking his head to take another sip of his beer in lieu of saying anything. Then, feeling weird about it, he apologizes anyways. “Sorry, mate. You look good is all.”

Harry smirks, one dimple deepening. “Thanks.” There’s a pause, then, “You don’t look too bad yourself. If I didn’t have a professional relationship with you, I’d ask if you wanted to get out of here.”

It sounds awfully like he’s toeing the line between flirting and not. Louis doesn’t think he’d describe them as having a professional relationship to begin with anyways. Still, having sex with Harry Styles could only end badly. In the best case scenario, Harry would see his soulmate tattoo and realize that they are soulmates. In the worst case, word would get out that they’re sleeping together, Louis would be a prime suspect for soulmate tattoo removals, and he’d be arrested for removing Liam’s. Plus, Harry would also find out that they’re soulmates.

“What a shame that we’re professionals then,” Louis replies lightly.

“Indeed,” Harry agrees, sipping his drink and smacking his lips together afterwards.

There’s a pause of silence that Louis thinks is a comfortable one, the two of them sipping their drinks quietly in each other’s company.

Then, Harry speaks again. “Hey,” he says, and when Louis looks over at him, his eyebrows are furrowed over the green of his eyes. He takes a moment to unabashedly look over Louis’ body, eyes raking from his toes upwards until they meet his squirming gaze. Then, completely calmly, he asks, “Which one is your soulmate tattoo?”

Louis reaches to touch his forearm reflexively, but upon realizing what he is doing attempts to disguise the movement by continuing past his forearm to clasp his hands together. He’s not sure how successful it is and he could kick himself for having almost given himself away, but in fairness he is quite tipsy. Harry is too, he thinks. Maybe that means Harry won’t have noticed his slip up.

“Why do you ask?” Louis questions instead of answering. He supposes he should have prepared for this moment, but he doesn’t have any idea what to say.

He could lie and say it’s a different tattoo, but part of him is holding out hope that he and Harry will someday end up together. He’s pretty sure the chances of this happening are slimmer if Louis convinces Harry that there’s another person in the world he is waiting to be with.

He could also lie and say that his soulmate doesn’t exist, but something about that feels wrong when Harry is less than two feet away from him.

Louis has never been a good liar, and something about the earnestness of Harry’s eyes makes him feel like he would be spectacularly bad at lying to the man.

Deflection seems like the way to go, then, but how? It’s not exactly an easy question to dodge. Most people are very open about their soulmate tattoos. After all, the more people who know what your soulmate tattoo is, the higher the probability that someone will recognize it and unite you with your soulmate, like Louis did for Niall and Zayn.

A small part of his brain flits to wondering how Niall and Zayn are doing, but he has an emergency on his hands right now. He can check in on them later.

“Just curious,” Harry says slowly. His eyes are narrowed in suspicion, and Louis desperately needs to get himself out of this situation before he digs himself into a deeper mess.

When Louis doesn’t offer anything in response to this, Harry continues, “Usually mutual flirting only happens when the soulmate situation of both parties allows for it. And forgive me if I’m misinterpreting the situation, but you strike me as the type to wait to find the lucky person with matching ink to yours and not the type to flirt with a man who’s looking to have his soulmate tattoo removed.”

Louis licks his lips, glancing away from Harry for a moment and letting his gaze rest on Niall and Zayn. Niall’s arm is slung around Zayn’s shoulders and they’re all but cuddled up in a booth table, nursing their beers and talking quietly.

When Louis looks back at Harry, the other man is studying his face intently.

“Let’s just say that my soulmate situation is one that definitely allows for me to be flirting with you,” Louis says, choosing his words carefully. “My profession, however, does not.”

With that, Louis tips back his beer glass to finish it and pushes himself away from the bar to go find Liam. He glances back at Harry on his way and when he meets Harry’s wide eyes, gives him a wink.

Harry returns the gesture with a nod and a smirk, raising his glass in a mock toast towards Louis.

Louis smiles. _Not too shabby, Tomlinson_, he thinks to himself.

-

“Are you sure we should be having this conversation now?” Liam asks Louis the next morning, looking nearly as nervous in the reclining chair as he had the first time Louis had performed this procedure on him. “What if it’s traceable?”

“It’s my tattoo parlor,” Louis reminds him, rolling his eyes fondly as he prepares. “There’s no security cameras or audio.” He pauses, turning to Niall, “Although, that may be an oversight. Once we’re done with Liam, maybe we should look into upping the security around here.”

Niall shrugs, turning to Liam. “Plus, I’m on watch. It’ll be fine.”

Liam grimaces. “Your soulmate is a cop, Niall. Not that I don’t trust you, but…”

“I won’t tell,” Niall promises. “There’s no reason for him to suspect anything anyways. If there was an active investigation, it might be a different story. But for now…” Niall shrugs again.

“Talking will distract you,” Louis points out. Then, “Here comes the cold air.”

Liam nods, grabbing for Niall’s hand to squeeze as Louis blows numbingly cold air over his arm. “Wait. Niall, why aren’t you at the front desk?”

Niall sighs, flicking Liam’s temple. “Relax, mate. It’s like six in the morning. It would definitely be more suspicious if I was sitting as usual at the front desk. We’re here at off hours for a reason.”

“Right, right,” Liam says, shaking his head to clear it. “Okay, so spill. Harry is catering the grand opening? And you flirted with him last night?”

“Yes,” Louis says, finishing up the numbing process.

“You seem calm,” Liam comments, “but the facts you’re telling me make it seem like you should be the opposite.”

Louis looks at Liam, donning his protective eyewear and reaching for the laser. “I am calm,” he assures him. “No need to worry.”

Liam raises an eyebrow, managing to look doubtful and concerned at the same time.

“No need to worry?” Niall chuckles from where he’s standing next to Liam. “Louis, we’ve been nothing but worried for you ever since you met Harry.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Louis says, touched. “Anyways, hiring Harry as a caterer was completely coincidental,” he explains. “I picked the restaurant off of Yelp. I had no idea Harry worked there – hell, I didn’t even know he could cook.”

Liam presses his lips together. “Don’t you think the link will be suspicious to the police?”

“Maybe,” Louis cedes. “But it honestly was a coincidence. They can check my Google search records for top restaurants if they want. And besides, if I was removing his tattoo there would surely be some sort of suspicious financial transaction taking place – either lack of payment for the catering from me to him or an odd exchange of money from him to me. But neither will be present. They’re good detectives, I’m sure. They’ll be able to see that I haven’t removed Harry’s soulmate tattoo without much trouble.”

“That’s true,” Niall vouches. It’s hard to tell if he actually believes this, or if it’s because of his newfound romance with a member of the police department. Either way, it’s support for Louis’ case, so he’ll take it.

Liam, however, doesn’t look fully convinced. “And what about last night at the bar?”

“Another coincidence,” Louis tells him, speaking slowly as he focuses on aiming the red light that guides the laser over Liam’s tattoo. “We didn’t plan to meet. And yes, a tiny bit of flirting happened, but it was all harmless. I got the chance to explain to him that my soulmate tattoo situation allows for me to flirt with him.” Louis can’t help but smirk proudly at that. “Clever, right? Leaves a bit of mystery, but is still completely honest.”

“You told him that?” Liam asks. “And he didn’t ask for further explanation?”

“That must have been a weird conversation,” Niall chimes in.

“It worked in the moment,” Louis says, shutting off the laser and examining Liam’s soulmate tattoo. “Trust me, guys. It’s going to be fine.”

Liam shakes his head. “If you say so, Lou.”

Louis nods. “Anyways,_ Niall_,” he draws out his friend’s name, grinning widely. “Tell us about your night last night.”

“Oh stop,” Niall says, feigning bashfulness. “You guys, it was incredible.”

Louis fistpumps victoriously, putting away the laser. “I take all credit for your successful love life.”

Niall laughs. “As you should,” he tells him. “Zayn is great. He was shy at first, so I was a little worried that things might not be good between us, but once he opened up we had some really great conversations. I took him home since you lot left - thanks for that by the way,” Niall glares teasingly at them.

“We thought it best to leave you two to it,” Louis interjects with a wink.

“We agreed we didn’t want to sleep together on our first night, but I dropped him off at his place and we made out for a while in his car,” Niall says, visibly holding back a smile. His cheeks are red, but Louis opts to not make fun of him for it.

“You made out in his car, but didn’t go for sex? Damn.” Liam says, causing Louis and Niall to both burst out laughing.

“_Liam_!” Niall scolds.

“I would have, is all I’m saying,” Liam confesses, shrugging. “He’s hot, Niall.”

Louis laughs, handing Niall the tub of healing salve to apply over Liam’s freshly treated soulmate tattoo. “All done for today,” he tells Liam, clapping him on the back.

Liam visibly relaxes, as if he hadn’t noticed Louis finish up a few minutes ago, and releases Niall’s hand from his hold.

“It looks a lot better,” Niall observes as he helps Liam apply the cream.

“It tingles,” Liam says, squinting down at his arm. “But it’s a lot lighter for sure.”

Louis nods. “That’s all normal,” he tells them. “Only a few more times and it should be gone for good.”

Liam beams and the look of pure relief on his face reminds Louis what he’s doing this for. In that moment with his two best friends, everything feels worth it.


	3. let this night last for eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Louis has a date with destiny (and Liam)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to Leighta, whose touching words on ko-fi made me smile so big that you would not believe. thank you, lovely.

The grand opening of Tommo’s Tattoos is spectacular.

Louis thinks he might have been more nervous for this day than any other day in his life. Hell, maybe even more nervous than he will be on his wedding day which is supposedly the most nerve-wracking and momentous day of one’s life. Yet somehow, he’s sure that today is his.

But things are going beyond smoothly and everyone seems to be having a great time. Niall really put his all into decorating, and the parlor looks better than it ever has. There are streamers draped across the ceiling and balloons floating around throughout, plus a large balloon arch that Louis has no idea how or when it was constructed.

Niall also convinced a group of his friends who are in a band to come play for the event, a mix of popular covers and original songs. They’re incredible, and Louis has loved every song they’ve played. Then again, Louis has thought highly of nearly every live performance he has heard recently, so maybe his judgement is a bit biased. Still, everyone else seems to be enjoying the music too, so he thinks it’s more likely that everyone he has heard is actually extremely talented.

The main lights are off, so the parlor is fairly dark save for some colored lights that Niall likes to use when he throws parties. The pulsing of the chill music fits well with the lighting, giving off a fun and cool overall atmosphere.

To top it off, the food is amazing. Harry truly outdid himself, laying out platters of vegetable and seafood tempura, sushi, kebabs, mini tacos, sliders, and roasted vegetables. Louis ate some of what Harry informed him were brussels sprouts and felt more pleasure than he had since his last hook-up.

“There’s no way this is a vegetable,” Louis told Harry, feeling somewhat childish and yet vehemently serious.

“It is,” Harry assured him. “It’s all about the sauce that you roast them in. This one is a vinaigrette, a favorite of mine. I’m glad you like it.”

Louis still doesn’t quite believe him.

Louis’ job for the grand opening party is mostly to work the floor, to talk to people and make sure Tommo’s Tattoos gets a good reputation in their minds. It’s a task that he doesn’t mind at all. He loves talking to people, especially about tattoos.

And yet, most of his job seems to be accepting compliments on what a great event it is and answering questions about how and where to schedule an appointment. He graciously thanks them and directs them to where Niall is seated at the front desk, tapping his thumbs against the wood in time to the song playing and setting up more appointments than he probably has the entire time they’ve been open.

They’re offering a buy one, get one half off sale if you schedule your appointment today (either with a friend or two tattoos for yourself) and it seems to be very popular.

The parlor is full of people, maybe over a hundred - which is definitely not what Louis had informed the police office, but he doubts they’ll mind. Zayn is standing off on the side, eating sushi and trying not to look too obvious in watching Niall do his work. Louis is just grateful that he isn’t a) shutting down their little party or b) distracting Niall. Or c) discovering that Louis is illegally removing Liam’s soulmate tattoo, but that is neither here nor there.

Somehow although there are plenty of people around him, and even talking to him, Louis feels lonely. Niall is busy at the front desk and doesn’t have time to talk to him, not that Louis wants to take time away from his work to do so. Liam wasn’t able to come, had said something about Derrick being a dick and refusing to let him go out. Louis had told Liam that he would come rescue him, but Liam insisted that it was fine.

“You’re helping me enough as it is, Lou. And soon I’ll be free of him forever. I can get through this,” Liam had told him, voice hushed over the phone when he answered Louis’ 6th call after not showing up like he had said he would. “Sorry I can’t be there, though. I hope it goes well!”

Louis can’t wait until Liam’s soulmate tattoo is removed for good.

“Are you Louis?” A short woman with long black hair asks, interrupting his train of thought. As Louis brings himself back to the present, she clarifies, “The owner?”

“That’s me,” Louis affirms, putting on his best winning smile. “How can I help you?”

“We just wanted to say that we love the event,” she tells him, grabbing the arm of her taller friend.

“It’s awesome,” her friend chimes in when prompted to with a not-so-gentle nudge to her ribs.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Louis tells them sincerely. “We just wanted to put on a little something to get the word out that we’re opening up. And if you schedule an appointment to get a tattoo today, it’s buy one get one half off.”

“We’ve been wanting to get matching tattoos forever,” the first girl gushes, squeezing her friend’s arm excitedly. “Where did you say we go to?”

Louis guides them over to Niall’s desk, chatting amiably with them about tattoo designs while they wait in line. When they reach the front, Louis introduces them to Niall by name and then makes his exit.

He handles quite a few more exchanges like that one throughout the evening, but after a few hours of being constantly on his feet with a smile on his face, Louis is exhausted.

It shows, apparently, because there’s a tap on his shoulder just as he’s contemplating how many people would notice if he slipped into his office and flopped onto his desk for ten minutes. Maybe when he remodels his office, he should put a couch in there.

“Hey,” Harry says, voice deep as always.

“Oh, hi,” Louis greets him, offering him a small smile rather than his too-wide one reserved for new customers. He and Harry might not be on a level at which they’d call themselves friends, but Louis doesn’t think he necessarily needs to pretend around the man either.

“You look beat,” Harry tells him, handing him a mini forkful of something burgundy colored, which Louis assumes from Harry’s Cheshire cat grin are beets.

“Thanks,” Louis rolls his eyes fondly, willingly opening his mouth.

Harry feeds him the beets, tolerates Louis’ claims that there is no way that was anything remotely healthy, and then drops him a wink. “I’ve got something you’ll enjoy even more.”

Louis waits for a moment, not fully convinced that this wasn’t an innuendo. Fortunately for his dignity, Harry reveals a cup of coffee hidden behind his back moments later.

“It’s got some sugar and milk in it,” Harry tells him, looking sheepish. “You don’t strike me as a black coffee kind of guy, but I don’t know how you like it either.”

“Just milk, usually,” Louis says, shaking his head. “But it honestly doesn’t matter. This is the best and most needed gift.”

Harry chuckles, nodding in acknowledgement. “You looked like you needed it, and no one misses me if I’m gone for a few minutes unlike yourself.”

“Eh,” Louis shrugs, looking around. “No one’s interrupted us for these past few minutes, have they?”

Harry raises his eyebrows. “But they want to,” he says confidently. “Just watch, Lou.” And well, Louis didn’t realize that they were on nickname terms, but he quite likes it.

“Watch what?” Louis asks, blinking at Harry in confusion.

“I’m going to back off and I bet someone will come up to you within two minutes,” Harry says.

“Five minutes,” Louis counters.

“You’re on,” Harry says, smirking. “What are we betting?”

Louis thinks about that for a moment. “Another cup of coffee.”

“Bo-o-oring,” Harry informs him, drawing out the “o”.

“Fine, what do you want to bet? I just want caffeine.”

“Loser has to get tattooed by the winner.”

“I’m a _tattoo artist_,” Louis reminds him. “That hardly seems fair.”

His heart is pumping a bit faster now, but he can’t put his finger on why. It’s probably the coffee starting to kick in, he tells himself.

“Alright, true,” Harry concedes. “Winner picks a tattoo that the loser has to get.”

It seems like high stakes for such a small bet, but Louis isn’t one to back down. And he wouldn’t particularly mind getting another tattoo.

“You’re on,” Louis says.

They shake on it. Then, Harry steps away, mixing in with the rest of the crowd.

Sure enough, a tall man approaches Louis within the next minute, asking if he’s the owner and complimenting the event. Louis smiles and talks to him cheerfully enough, but inwardly he sighs. After the man disappears to go eat some more roasted vegetables, Louis catches Harry’s gaze from across the room and gives him his best thoroughly unimpressed look.

Harry simply winks back at him.

-

“It was a _smash hit_, wasn’t it, Zayn?” Niall asks eagerly the next morning as they walk into the tattoo parlor together, an hour earlier than normal.

“It was,” Zayn says indulgently.

“It was _so_ great,” Niall continues. “The music, the lighting, the people, and the _food_, oh god, don’t even get me started on the food.”

“The food was really good,” Zayn agrees.

“I had no idea Harry could _cook_,” Niall comments, taking what seems like the first breath in his entire fifteen minute rant gushing about the grand opening.

Zayn casts Niall a sidelong glance. “I didn’t know you knew Harry.”

Niall flushes slightly, turning to face him and countering, “I didn’t know _you_ knew Harry.”

“He spends enough time in the station,” Zayn replies grimly.

“Yes,” Louis claps his hands, loud and sudden, effectively cutting off whatever Niall might have said in response. “Harry is a lunatic romantic who has an excellent singing voice and is an incredible chef to boot, so we tolerate him.”

“Also, he’s gorgeous and you’re trying to get into his pants,” Niall adds.

“That,” Louis says, pausing and pressing his lips together thoughtfully, “I suppose is also true.”

Zayn’s eyebrows raise a fraction.

Louis notices, pointing a finger at Zayn. “But despite this primal desire, I will not engage in any illicit activities. No need to worry, Zaynie.”

Zayn makes a face. “Please never call me that again.”

Niall cackles, clapping Louis on the back. “Zayn, that only means he’s going to call you that even more.”

Zayn sighs.

Louis smiles at his dark-haired friend, clapping his hands together again. “Alright, clean up crew. Thanks for volunteering. Let’s get to it!”

“Great pep talk,” Niall teases, smiling fondly and starting to pick up larger pieces of trash that didn’t quite make it to the bin last night.

Louis sticks his tongue out at him, grabbing for the broom and starting to sweep.

-

As Niall had said, the grand opening was in fact a smash hit. It was more successful than Louis could have imagined, with success being measured by the number of customers who are now usually in the parlor.

Previously, Louis and Niall had most of the day to themselves with a short burst of scheduled appointments in the early afternoon and the occasional browser at odd hours. Now, the shop always seems to have at least one customer in it. The appointments are practically all booked up and drop-ins actually have to wait for an opening rather than walking right in. Louis is sure the post-grand-opening frenzy will die down soon enough, but based on the state of the waiting room lately, it’s hard to imagine.

As such, when the bell over the door jangles fifteen minutes before they close, Louis barely suppresses a groan. He had already begun sweeping and tidying up the back room, looking forward to calling it a day.

He hears Niall set down his guitar with a twang, clear his throat, and ask, “How can I help you today?”

The answering voice catches him by surprise, deep and smooth. “I’m here to see Louis,” Harry says.

Louis hears the sound of wheels rolling, pictures Niall’s office chair sliding back as the Irishman stands and says, “Just a moment, Harry.”

There’s silence then, followed by the soft ring of the phone in Louis’ office. There’s another line connected near the reclining chair, so Louis grabs for it and answers.

“Harry’s here. Says he wants to see you,” Niall informs him.

Louis smiles. He should really tell Niall how well sound travels within the parlor one of these days. “Appreciate the heads up,” he tells him honestly. “Send him back.”

Louis doesn’t bother to stop sweeping after having told Harry to come back, but he does take a quick second to fix his hair and check his teeth in the reflection of a mirror that he usually uses to show customers tattoos in hard to see places. No greens in his teeth, hair sideswept and not parting strangely, Louis is satisfied.

“Louis,” Harry says when he enters the room, a greeting that sends a shiver down Louis’ spine.

Louis stands straighter, feeling particularly small when hunched over the broom. He knows that he isn’t the tallest, but he doesn’t normally feel short either. Something about the way Harry carries himself accentuates his height.

Leaning casually against the broom, Louis raises his eyebrows. “Harry,” he returns, “what brings you here?”

“You,” Harry answers simply.

Louis smiles a bit, but he doubts that the answer comes across the way Harry had intended it to. He’s almost absolutely sure that Harry is here to collect his reward, has thought of some mildly embarrassing tattoo that he’d like Louis to get. He’d bet money on it even.

So it comes as a complete surprise when Harry says instead:

“I wanted to ask if you would like to go on a date with me.”

And well, maybe Louis should stop betting.

“You…” Louis is something close to speechless.

There’s a loud crash from the front room which is almost certainly Niall having knocked something over in shock.

Harry smirks, and the cockiness of his eyes fuels Louis to recover his speaking abilities.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

It’s admittedly not his strongest recovery.

Harry nods, eyebrows raised in what looks like a challenge.

“Sorry, it’s just…” Louis takes a moment to collect himself. “It comes as a bit of a surprise.”

A bit of a surprise is an understatement. Louis’ mind is racing nearly as quickly as his heart, trying to figure out what exactly just happened. Five minutes ago, he was dead tired, counting the seconds until they could close up shop and go home, and now he’s been asked on a date by his unsuspecting soulmate.

His unsuspecting soulmate whom, according to his, Liam’s, and Niall’s analyses, he _cannot_ be involved with. But then again, Niall had revealed to Zayn just the other day that Louis was trying to get into Harry’s pants and it had been fine. Maybe there isn’t as much need to worry as he initially thought.

_There wouldn’t be need to worry if you weren’t doing anything illegal_, a nagging voice in his head reminds him of Liam’s gradually fading feather. And right, that’s why he isn’t supposed to have any sort of relationship with Harry, friends or otherwise. He can’t be someone who might be suspected if - or dare he say _when_ \- Harry gets his soulmate tattoo removed.

“What happened to being professionals?” Louis asks when Harry doesn’t offer anything to fill the silence.

“What happened to being in a situation that allows us to flirt?” Harry replies lightly.

And well, what’s the harm in one date? A date isn’t anything near a relationship. Surely only some sort of relationship would be a red flag for the police. Besides, if anything, Zayn would be cheering him on right now.

It feels like he’s making excuses for himself because he is. But Louis doesn’t care. It’s hard to care when Harry is two feet away from him in tight black jeans and a floral t-shirt, green eyes challenging and imploring, lips quirked somewhere between a smile and smirk.

“Okay,” Louis says, tentative.

Harry beams, a smile spreading fully over his face. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow after closing?”

“Okay,” Louis repeats, more surely.

“See you then,” Harry says, tipping his head towards Louis before turning and sauntering back out the way he came.

Louis feels like he has lost capability of movement. He stays where he is, frozen, leaning against the broom until Niall rushes in a minute later, startling him back into action.

“Louis!” Niall whisper-cheers, as if he is worried Harry could somehow hear them. “I have no idea how you did it, but your soulmate who is determined to not be with his soulmate just asked you out on a date.”

Louis shakes his head, smiling in disbelief. Then, he turns sharply to Niall. “Hey,” he says sternly, “don’t tell Liam.”

Niall winces, holding out his phone sheepishly. “I may or may not have already been live texting them everything that happened.”

“Them?” Louis asks, looking at Niall’s outstretched phone. “I just said Liam.”

Sure enough, there’s a group chat open on Niall’s phone between him, Liam, and Zayn.

“Traitor,” Louis accuses, but it’s fond.

And well, if a cop is receiving live updates about Louis’ personal life, he hopes it at least counts towards not getting him arrested.

-

When Louis unlocks the door to his apartment later that evening, he’s greeted by the smell of a home-cooked meal. This in itself isn’t entirely surprising – Liam likes to cook, especially if he’s stressed – but when Louis walks into their kitchen, he’s met with an inexplicable sight.

“Uh, Liam?” Louis asks hesitantly as he sets down his keys. “Am I interrupting something?”

The overhead lights are off, the room lit dimly by an arrangement of candles set out on their tiny dining room table. There are two spots set at the table, plates filled carefully with what looks like roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Liam is sitting at one end of the table, dressed in a pressed button-down shirt and holding a bouquet of red roses.

“No,” Liam answers, but Louis has a hard time believing it.

“Are you on a date right now?” Louis whispers, craning his neck to see if their bathroom light is on. It’s not. “Where’s your date at?”

“I’m not on a date,” Liam tells him.

Louis frowns, rounding on Liam and demanding, “This isn’t for _Derrick _is it?”

Liam laughs, shaking his head with a smile, “No, no way.”

Louis presses his lips together thoughtfully, surveying the scene once more. “I give up,” he says. “What’s going on?”

“Practice,” Liam tells him, holding out the bouquet of roses. “We’re practicing. Niall tells me that Harry asked you out on a date, and I know how the last date you had went.”

Louis thinks for a moment. His last date had been a year or so ago, with a sweet man named Hasan. Hasan had been great, but the date itself had gone horribly. Louis had knocked over one of the candles that was set up for their romantic dinner, accidentally setting the tablecloth on fire. They had put it out quickly enough, thanks to Hasan using the fire extinguisher to spew foam over the flames - and inevitably also over their dinner, after which Louis had called to order a pizza. Pizza and TV with a smoky kitchen in the background had felt a lot less like a date and more like two friends hanging out. They had agreed shortly afterwards that there was a reason they weren’t matched as soulmates and that they were better off as friends.

“Harry isn’t going to wine and dine me, Liam,” Louis tells Liam, who raises his eyebrows in response.

“Harry is a _chef_, Louis,” Liam replies. “It’s a possibility.”

“Fine, fine,” Louis shrugs, conceding. Liam went out of his way to set all of this up, and Louis certainly isn’t going to turn down a delicious homemade meal because of his pride. “Thanks, Liam.”

He takes the bouquet of roses from Liam and takes a seat across from him.

“Sorry,” Liam apologizes as Louis looks at the flowers in puzzlement. “They’re plastic ones from the dollar store. Cheaper and they last longer! I figured we could decorate the apartment with them afterwards.”

“Resourceful,” Louis compliments, chuckling.

“So…” Liam says once Louis is seated and has started to dig into the food.

“This is amazing, Liam. You really did all this after Niall texted you?” Louis asks through his mouthful of food.

“Yep,” Liam says, looking pleased. Then, he shakes his head a little as if mentally chastising himself for getting derailed, and says, “Tell me about yourself.”

Louis finishes chewing and swallowing before giving Liam an unimpressed look. “Liam, we’ve lived together for years and been friends for even longer. You know everything there is to know about me.”

Liam huffs, motioning to the romantic table set up in front of them. “We’re on a practice date, Lou. Because tomorrow you’re going out on a real date. And if he asks you to tell him about yourself, you might panic and tell him that you’re his soulmate – which you absolutely _cannot_ do.”

Louis sighs. Liam is right, he might panic. Honestly, whenever someone asks him about himself, he somehow manages to forget every interesting fact about him that there is.

“Well, I’m a tattoo artist,” Louis starts.

Liam flicks a bit of potato at him. “Oh, really?” He asks sarcastically, before reminding him, “Harry already knows that.”

“I like football,” Louis says.

Liam is grimacing a bit and Louis is sure if this was an actual conversation on a date with Liam, he would not be making a good impression.

“I have a big family,” Louis tries.

Liam shakes his head. “You’ve got to sell yourself. Phrase it as best as you possibly can.”

“I…have a lot of sisters?” Louis says uncertainly.

Liam laughs, nodding. “That’s true, but what I mean is instead of saying that you have a big family, say that family and loved ones are important to you. Instead of saying you like football, say that you’re a very active person and football is one of your favorite sports.”

Louis blinks. “Liam, you sound like a mash-up of a dating advice magazine and a resume builder all in one.”

Liam gives him a bemused smile. “I’m just trying to help.”

Louis knew that already. Liam is always trying to help. He loves that about him.

“I know, Li,” Louis tells him, “but I don’t think I need help in the small talk department.”

Liam gives him a dubious look, but relents.

“What I do need help with,” Louis continues, “is what to say if he asks about my soulmate situation.”

“Ah,” Liam nods in agreement, settling his features back into his best attempt at an impression of Harry. “So, what’s the deal with your soulmate?”

“I don’t have one,” Louis lies.

Liam’s lips turn downwards in a pitiful pout. “Louis,” he says, dropping all pretense of being Harry, “you shouldn’t lie about that.”

“I gave up on trying to find them,” Louis tries again.

Liam is still frowning, but he looks less disapproving. “That’s not true either, Lou.”

“It’s _hard_, Liam,” Louis whines. “I’m a huge romantic, you know that. I can’t believe I met my soulmate. Every time I’m around him, it’s like I feel whole. There’s a weight lifted off my chest whenever he walks into a room. How can I feel that way, and yet turn around and tell him that I have no interest in soulmates?”

Liam sighs, shaking his head. “That’s why we’re practicing.”

Louis grimaces, giving it another attempt. “I’ve never met them,” he says, “and it’ll happen when it happens, regardless of who I date in between.”

Liam considers this. “It was better,” he says after a moment. “Drop the first part – you’re going to be sitting right across from your soulmate.”

Louis nods, mentally bracing himself. “That’s the best thing about soulmates,” he says. “Whoever my soulmate is, they’ll find a way to me somehow, someday. It’s not something I need to worry about right now.”

Liam presses his lips together thoughtfully. “Yeah. I think that works. How forced did it feel?”

Louis shrugs. It had been pretty forced, but he hadn’t taken two semesters of drama in university for nothing. “It was okay.”

“Does that mean you’re ready then?” Liam asks.

“Yes,” Louis says, determined, and they finish their candlelit meal as Louis and Liam rather than as Louis and Harry.

-

If Louis had to guess what a dinner date with Harry would be like, he probably would have guessed somewhere posh and nice, where they would eat too much food and drink too much wine before going home, cheeks flushed and smiles wide. He might have even dared to picture flowers and a sweet kiss goodnight at the end. (It’s entirely possible that practicing with Liam the night before influenced this hypothetical date.)

Harry was a chef after all, and the restaurant he worked for seemed fairly high end. Louis wouldn’t have been surprised at all if Harry’s choice of dining matched the level of his occupation.

And yet, the restaurant that Harry pulls into is almost the exact opposite.

“You look disappointed,” Harry says, but there’s a smile in his voice.

Louis doesn’t have to look to know that the other man is smirking, but he does anyways, and finds that he was right. Harry is sitting at the wheel, eyebrows raised and lips twisted upwards.

“Not at all!” Louis rushes to correct his date, though Harry seems unbothered and maybe even pleased by his assessment. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“And why is that?” Harry asks, opening his door and hopping out of the car.

Louis follows him, turning to face the restaurant that they are parked in front of. It’s tiny, is the main thing that caught Louis off guard. If Harry hadn’t spent the majority of their car ride here telling Louis about how this is his favorite Thai restaurant in town, Louis might not have even noticed the place. Squished between two other small shops, the Thai place is the smallest by far. There’s barely enough room for its name, the narrow letters of the currently unlit neon sign proclaiming ‘Thai Basil’ in a font that Louis is sure was one of the few that were possible to make fit on the front of the building.

Louis shrugs to Harry, feeling sheepish. “I dunno,” he answers. “It doesn’t strike me as the type of place a fancy chef like yourself would frequent.”

Harry gives him a toothy grin, holding open the door.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find that I’m full of surprises,” Harry tells him.

Louis smiles at that. He wants that, a lot. To learn about Harry, the surprising things as well as the expected ones. To learn little things like this, the restaurant he likes to go to on nights off, the supermarket he prefers to buy his groceries at, the coffeeshop he likes to swing by on the way to work.

Louis swallows down the thought. This is their first date, he reminds himself. And it’s just a date. There’s nothing that suggests anything more between them is to come. Louis is being a downright sap because he _knows_ this is his soulmate, but Harry probably doesn’t feel the same.

Sobered by this reality check, Louis focuses on the interior of the restaurant to calm the thoughts in his head. Now that he’s inside, the restaurant fits Harry’s style somehow. Louis thinks that if he had come here before, he might have been able to guess that Harry would like it. Today Harry is wearing a flowing deep blue shirt and ripped jeans, his hair styled upwards. Under the warm glow of the restaurant lights, he looks relaxed, easygoing, and like he belongs.

The restaurant looks cramped inside, but somehow it feels cozy and homey. There are too many small tables crammed into one room, separated from an open kitchen by bar seating where patrons have a front row view of the chefs frying noodles and searing meat over the flames. The sound of cookware clanging and food sizzling fills the air, accompanied by an incredible aroma that has Louis convinced that no matter what he orders, it will be good.

“Harry!” A South Asian woman approaches them after they are seated. She is dressed in a white shirt and black slacks and is holding a notepad, so Louis presumes she is their waitress.

“Hey, Tanya,” Harry greets the woman, smiling up at her. “How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Tanya tells him with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But I see that there are things that are new with you, hmm?” She turns to Louis then, an impish smile on her face as she looks him up and down. Then, she scolds Harry playfully, “I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this one yet.”

Harry clears his throat, shaking his head.

Tanya cuts off whatever he might have been attempting to say, turning to Louis with a welcoming grin. “So, how long have you been seeing Harry?”

“Uhm,” Louis says, lost for words under the eager gaze of her warm, brown eyes.

“Uhm,” Harry echoes, looking mildly panicked from across the table.

“This is our… first date,” Louis says after a long moment in which Tanya continues to stare at him expectantly.

It feels weird saying it aloud. Their _first_ date. Even though Louis just had a mental pep talk in which he insisted otherwise, the word ‘first’ suddenly seems to suggest that there are more to come.

Tanya’s jaw drops and she brings her hands to cover her mouth, even though one is still holding her notepad. She looks torn between squealing in excitement and gasping in shock, settling on silently gaping at Louis. Louis wouldn’t say she is much older than they are, but in that moment she seems almost like a younger sister to him.

“Harry,” Tanya whispers, and it sounds reproachful although Louis thinks Harry is the one who would have the right to do any admonishing in this situation. She brings her hands down from her face, cocking her hip as her features settle into a mirthful smirk. “Well, I had no idea,” she leans towards Louis side of the table, whispering conspiratorially, “He usually only brings people here if he thinks they’re a keeper.”

“Tanya,” Harry says. Louis suspects he meant for it to come out warningly, but he just sounds embarrassed.

“Really?” Louis drawls, propping his chin on his hand and leaning forwards. “Do tell.”

Tanya laughs, throwing her head back with the force of it. For such a small woman, she has a lively personality. Louis likes her already.

“Oh, we’ll get along great, I think,” Tanya tells him, confirming his own thoughts. “But I shouldn’t get myself in any more trouble with Harry than I already am,” she grins, lifting her notepad and pen, poised to write. “So, what can I get you?”

Harry orders his usual, which neither of them bothers to explain to Louis what that is. Louis glances quickly at the menu before settling on one of the chef’s special noodle dishes.

“Sorry about that,” Harry says once Tanya has gone to deliver their order to the kitchen, a full four steps away from their table. His cheeks are tinted slightly redder than they usually are, and Louis can’t help but find it cute.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Louis assures him, laughing. “Full of surprises, isn’t that what you said earlier?”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head and joking in agreement, “Didn’t even see this one coming myself!”

Louis laughs.

He and Harry fall quiet after that, but the general bustling sounds of the restaurant keep it from being awkward. There are other patrons seated on both sides of their tiny table, just far enough away that Louis can’t make out much of what they’re saying, but close enough that the sound of their chattering fills the silence with white noise.

“So,” he says to Harry. When he looks up at the man across from him, he finds his green eyes already looking back at him. “Tell me some more of these things that would surprise me.”

“Nah,” Harry says, his smile widening at what must be a stunned look on Louis’ face. “Well, that’s a hard question!” he defends himself, laughing. “We’ve got to start easier. We’ll get there.”

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, shaking his head. “So. Tell me what made you want to become a chef, then. How’s that?”

“Better,” Harry replies, grinning. He leans back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “I started cooking for my family back when I was in high school. Nothing impressive then, of course, just normal family dinners and such. Got a part time job as a cook in a restaurant after I graduated, before I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life yet. And then, I realized how badly I wanted to travel.”

“Where to?” Louis asks, and Harry’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, that’s a whole separate question,” he says. “I don’t have the money yet to have gone to many places. Just places nearby, so far. Paris, Amsterdam, Bruges, you know. The surrounding suburbs, some other small places along the way.”

Louis doesn’t know, not having done much traveling himself, but he nods along in understanding anyways.

“Turns out it was the small towns that I fell in love with the most.” Harry says, looking almost surprised at the admission himself. “They’re so quaint and bucolic, and the people are always so kind and welcoming.” Harry shakes his head fondly, looking down. “You’d think I would be drawn to the big cities, but somehow the little ones stole my heart.”

“Makes sense to me,” Louis tells Harry, and the other man meets his eyes again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “You get to really know the place, it sounds like. Meet people, make memories. It gives you something worth coming back to. The big cities, usually people see that as more of a checklist. Once you’ve been there, you’ve done it.”

“I don’t understand how people can feel that way,” Harry says, passionate. “I feel like I’m never done traveling. Once I’m on the road, I never want to come ‘home,’ wherever home is.”

“What do you mean, wherever home is?” Louis voices his confusion aloud. For him, home is clear. It’s his mum, his sisters, his family - back in Doncaster. It’s also Liam - their little two bedroom flat. Louis thinks it’s okay to consider both of them to be his home.

“Haven’t ever felt like I belonged anywhere,” Harry answers with a shrug. “I’ve been here for the longest out of anywhere I’ve stayed. I doubt it’ll last, though I do love this city.”

“It’s a good one,” Louis says agreeably, trying not to focus on the meaning laced in Harry’s words.

Harry isn’t planning on staying here.

Which, Louis reminds himself, is fine. Harry doesn’t know or care that they’re soulmates. He’s free to live his life how he wants, which is in fact exactly what he wants most.

“Yeah, well,” Harry smiles. “It’s pretty easy to find work as a chef in any given city. You don’t always get good hours to start off, but you can work your way up.”

“I keep telling him he ought to go to Thailand,” Tanya says as she brings out two plates of steaming food.

Harry bursts out laughing. “Tanya, are you even trying to act like you aren’t eavesdropping?”

She shrugs, setting their food down in front of them with an innocuous smile. “I didn’t hear much,” she assures, “just a bit about liking being a chef because it means you can travel easily. And I’m telling you, you’d have a wonderful time in Thailand. Anywhere in Asia, really. The cuisine is very different and the culture is incredible.”

“Someday,” Harry promises with a wink.

“And take this one with you, eh?” Tanya adds, motioning to Louis with a shift of her hips. She nods at them before saying, “Alright, I’ll leave you to it for real now, hm? Enjoy your meal.”

Harry chuckles, smiling.

“Harry,” Louis says, breathing in the aroma steaming steadily from their food, “this smells amazing.”

Harry looks pleased at that, nodding. “Yep, best Thai food around,” he says confidently. “Well go on, try it!”

Louis snaps a quick picture of the food with his phone before lifting a forkful to his mouth, moaning appreciatively as he chews. “Even better than it smells,” he assures Harry, who is grinning at him.

Harry’s smile widens at his words. “Glad you like it,” he deadpans. “If you didn’t, this might not work out.”

Harry looks serious for a moment, then breaks into a smile. “I’m joking,” he clarifies.

Louis suspects there’s still some truth behind the words, but laughs nonetheless.

Harry insists that Louis try some of his dish, his favorite. It’s a peanut flavored curry and is just as incredible as Louis’ own, if not more so.

“I’m in heaven,” Louis informs him. “It’s so good.”

“Next time, you’ve got to try their noodle soup,” Harry tells him. “It’s great.”

“Sounds great,” Louis says automatically, his mouth filling in for where his brain is caught up on the first two words Harry had spoken.

_Next time_.

They eat their food as fast as they can, which actually turns out to take a relatively long amount of time. As much as Louis wants to devour his noodles, he also wants to talk to Harry. Harry seems to be having the same problem, chewing his mouthfuls quickly while Louis is talking to be able to chime in afterwards.

The conversation flows easily over a wide range of topics. They move on from small talk to life stories, swapping their funniest and wildest tales and learning more about each other in the process. Louis discovers that Harry has a sister, tells extremely bad jokes, and is banned from every grocery store in a small town outside of Bruges. He tells Harry about his own sisters, attempts a few cringy jokes of his own, and details how Liam had him go on a practice date the night before because of how bad his track record was.

They talk and they laugh, and before they know it Tanya is coming over again with a check and an apologetic smile.

“Sorry to bother again loves,” she says, looking mildly amused, “but I should let you know that we’re closing up soon.”

“Closing already?” Harry asks, looking confused. “Aren’t the weekend hours later than usual?”

Tanya smiles, as if she’s holding back a laugh. “They are,” she says simply, placing a small tray with their bill on the table and backing away with a wink.

Louis slips his phone halfway out of his pocket, just enough to be able to glimpse the time. When the numbers light up on the screen, his eyes widen.

“Harry,” he says, looking up at the man across from him in shock. “It’s almost eleven.”

“Righhht,” Harry says, disbelieving. Then, “Wait, really?”

Louis nods, fighting back a smile.

They argue over who will pay the bill, Harry ultimately winning out by scheming with Tanya. Louis insists this is unfair, but Tanya won’t hear it, shooing him out rather than listening to his point. Before they leave, she wishes them both a good night and gives Louis nearly as enthusiastic a hug as she gives Harry.

When they exit, the night air is brisk and refreshing against the warmth of Louis’ cheeks. They stand outside the doorway to the restaurant for a moment, enjoying the welcoming cool of the night.

“I’d ask if you wanted to grab a drink, but seeing as I’m the one driving you home…” Harry trails off with a shrug.

“Want to get coffee instead?” Louis asks.

“Coffee?”

“Sure,” Louis says. “There’s a little French café not too far from this area and I know they’re open late.”

“It’s eleven at night.”

“It is.”

“Why do you want to get coffee?”

Louis’ cheeks tinge red. “I’m not ready for this to end just yet,” he admits.

Harry doesn’t call him out on it. He just smiles and says, “Me neither.”

-

In the end, neither one of them gets coffee. Louis orders tea and Harry gets hot chocolate. An elderly man makes their drinks in front of them, and Louis slips him ten pounds before Harry has a chance to even begin reaching for his wallet.

The café is just as quaint as Louis remembers it being from the last time he came here with Liam. It’s one of Liam’s favorite places to study and Louis can easily see why.

They sit on the terrace even though it’s chilly out, string lights illuminating the sporadically spaced round tables.

“This place is really nice,” Harry comments, taking a sip of his hot chocolate and humming in satisfaction as he swallows.

“Yeah, it’s my roommate’s favorite.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s him. Great study vibe, great coffee, great staff. Shitty internet, though.”

“That’s a shame,” Harry chuckles. “Seems like that’s one of the most important factors nowadays.”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees. “It’s good to come read a book or summat, though.”

“Do you read much?” Harry asks, and Louis flashes back to the day they first met, when Harry had asked him in his office if he liked to read.

“If only,” Louis says, shaking his head to clear it. “Never enough time, you know? I used to a lot, when I was younger. You?”

Harry shrugs. “Listen to audiobooks mostly. Sometimes podcasts. Haven’t picked up a physical copy of a book in months though.”

They talk a bit more about books they liked to read, finding out that they’re both fans of the other’s favorite author. There’s a bit of a lull in the conversation after that, which Harry fills by finally popping the question that Louis had just been starting to think he would be able to get out of having to answer.

“So…” Harry says slowly, bringing his glass down from his face and revealing a line of white above his upper lip. “Help me reconcile this. You believe in soulmates, yes?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s something that one can either ‘believe in’ or not. The question is whether or not I agree with it, I think,” Louis says, prolonging the inevitable.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Spoken like someone who believes in soulmates.”

“What do you believe, if you don’t believe in soulmates?”

“That soulmates are a construct. Designed by the governments of the world to keep us in check. That there was a time before, when people would live their lives how they wanted to and find love along the way,” Harry answers easily, like he’s put a lot of thought into this.

“Why would the government-” Louis starts.

“Too many problems that come with relationships,” Harry interrupts. “Abuse, infidelity, divorce, the list goes on and on. But imagine, if instead of choosing who you want to be with, if that person is chosen for you. Makes you less likely to betray them, doesn’t it? Makes you less likely to have those doubts, wondering what if you had chosen someone else – the kinds of doubts that fracture the foundation your relationship is built upon.”

Louis blinks, thinking over Harry’s words. He had never thought of it that way before, always accepting as fact that his tattoo designated his future partner. He had seen soulmate relationships go sour, of course – take his mum or Liam for example – but he’d assumed that sometimes the tattoos made a mistake. There were cases of people whose soulmates were dead before they had a chance to meet, after all. Louis thought that these people, and those whose soulmate relationships didn’t work out, were supposed to find their own happiness with each other.

Harry is studying him closely, an expression in his eyes that Louis can’t decipher in the dim lighting of the terrace.

“I suppose yes, then,” Louis says slowly. “I do believe in soulmates.”

After all, how can he not believe in soulmates, when his own soulmate is seated right across from him, looking ethereal in the soft light of the cafe?

“That’s what I thought,” Harry says. “But what I don’t understand is, if you’re a person who believes in the soulmate system, how can you also be a person who does what you’re doing for Liam?”

Louis shakes his head, a burst of anger welling up inside of him as he thinks about Derrick. “Liam is my best friend,” he says fiercely. “I’d do anything if it meant he’d stop being hurt the way he is now.”

Harry seems to understand. He pauses for Louis to calm down again, then follows up with, “How can you be a person who goes on dates with guys like me?”

“What do you mean, ‘guys like you’?” Louis asks, lips quirking upwards in amusement.

“Guys who reject the system,” Harry clarifies.

Louis shrugs, subtly drawing in a deep breath as he prepares the answer he rehearsed the night before. “I’m sure that,” he says carefully, “whoever my soulmate is, they won’t mind me going on a few dates before we figure things out.”

“Don’t you worry about catching feelings?” Harry asks, looking genuinely curious. “I know people who have casual sex for that same reason, that their soulmate won’t mind. But dating seems more… suggestive of something serious.”

“Are you-” Louis can’t help but smile wryly. “Are you asking me if I’m worried about falling in love with you?”

“Well-” Harry pauses, then nods. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“If I fall in love with you,” Louis says, pausing, “I hope to god that you’ll have fallen for me too.”

“And then what about the soulmate system?” Harry asks.

“Then…” Louis says slowly. _Then the soulmate system will have worked_, he thinks. “Then, I guess we find out which one of us is right about the soulmate system.”

“I guess so,” Harry says.

The conversation drifts back to lighter topics, and they stay at the coffeeshop long after they have finished their drinks, enjoying each other’s company. It’s only when Louis’ eyes begin to droop closed that Harry insists they call it a night.

As they walk back to the car, Harry puts an arm around his shoulders. Louis smiles.

-

For some reason, Louis had expected his world to be totally changed after meeting his soulmate. Growing up, he had always pictured an astonishing reveal followed by a whirlwind of love, sweeping away the normalcy of how his life was before his soulmate entered it. After first meeting Harry, he had of course realized that this would not be the case. But after their first date, somehow part of him had secretly hoped that everything would change.

It didn’t.

Liam had badgered him for details over breakfast, and Louis had thanked him profusely for the much-needed practice with how to handle talking about soulmates. He made sure to include all the most important bits, like the fact that Harry wasn’t planning on staying in the city for long and about the reasoning behind his distrust in what he called the soulmate system. He also told him the most exciting bits, like how easily the conversation flowed, how magnetic Harry’s presence was, and how he had gotten to meet Tanya.

He relived the experience again for Niall once he got to work, Niall practically pouncing on him as soon as he swung open the tattoo parlor’s door.

But after that, things were back to how they usually were. He and Niall had some appointments in the morning and more in the afternoon, spending their gaps between patrons singing badly to the radio together. Occasionally Niall would be composing music or texting Zayn and Louis would be tidying up the store or practicing tattooing fruit, but all of this was normal too.

The only thing out of the norm was just after closing, when Louis’ phone vibrated with a text from ‘H,’ the ship emoji now followed by a chef’s hat and a music note.

[To: Louis Tomlinson, 5:27PM]

is it too early to say that I want to see you again? :)

Louis smiles. _Soulmates,_ he thinks to himself.

[To: H, 5:28PM]

not at all

He sends it, pausing before adding honestly:

[To: H, 5:28 PM]

but I should warn you, I’m a bit tired

Harry’s response comes almost instantly.

[To: Louis Tomlinson, 5:29 PM]

me 2. wanna just come over and watch tv?

Louis texts him a thumbs up, Harry replies with an address, and just like that Louis has a second date.


	4. we don't need no piece of paper from the city hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Louis reveals that Harry is his soulmate (to a stranger), Niall breaks the law and starts vlogging (yes, simultaneously), and Liam is thoroughly left out (sorry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to everyone who has commented about Louis telling Harry that they are soulmates - I just thought I'd let you know that you're in for a long ride. thanks for sticking around. and thanks for your comments. they make my day. I hope you continue to enjoy as this fic devolves into total ridiculousness.

“Sixth floor, you’ll know which one,” Louis grumbles, echoing what Harry had texted him when Louis asked which unit he lived in. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

Louis cracks open the door from the stairwell at floor two, just for a peek. As he suspected, glancing down the hall reveals a row of identical wooden doors, framed by white plaster walls. The only difference between any of the doors is the number marking them. That, and the fact that someone in apartment 213 has a package waiting for them.

Louis shakes his head, letting the door fall shut and starting his climb to the third floor. In Louis and Liam’s building, the elevator rarely works and even when it is working, it’s extremely slow. As a result, it has become second nature for Louis to default to taking the stairs. He regrets it a lot when he finally reaches the sixth floor, feeling silly as he struggles to catch his breath.

Once he is no longer heaving for air, he steps into the hallway. Sure enough, just like floor two, the sixth floor greets him with a row of identical wooden doors. _Maybe he knows that I’m his soulmate_, a small part of Louis’ brain fantasizes, _and he thinks that because I’m his soulmate, I’ll be able to find his door._

Louis starts down the hallway uncertainly, not sure what he is looking for. As it turns out, he needn’t have worried.

Slowly, a door that is different from the rest comes into view. There is a carved pumpkin in front of it, for one thing, though from this distance Louis can’t tell what the design is. There are also fake cobwebs draped over the door, a printout of a tombstone that has been meticulously colored with crayon, and a black plastic cauldron filled with chocolate bars.

Louis knocks, and when Harry answers the door, he does so shouting, “Boo!” in Louis’ face.

Louis startles, not because he was scared, but because someone just suddenly yelled in his face. It’s enough to make anyone startle. He emphasizes this to Harry many times over the course of the night.

“You’re really into Halloween, then?” Louis asks, chuckling at Harry.

“I scared you,” Harry says triumphantly.

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Do you like the pumpkin?”

Louis glances down at the jack-o-lantern at his feet. Carved into the front is the silhouette of a cat. It’s detailed, complete with little spikes of where the cat’s fur is sticking upwards on its arched back.

“Impressive,” Louis says honestly.

“There was another one with a carving of your face on it,” Harry says, and Louis can’t tell if he’s serious or not, “but it got moldy, unfortunately.”

Louis laughs, grinning at the man in front of him - the charming, sweet, holiday-loving man who Louis is growing fonder of by the minute.

“Anyways, what are we doing?” Harry shakes his head, stepping back and opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

Louis smiles and steps inside, raising an eyebrow as he takes in Harry’s apartment. He’s not one to judge, but the Halloween decorations are certainly not limited to the door. Actually, upon closer inspection it seems that the decorations inside are minimal. What makes it seem overdone is that there are pumpkins everywhere. They range in size from small, cute ones to massive ones fit for carving. Many of them are carved, some sporting simple designs of faces and others intricate designs of superheroes or pop stars. There’s one with a likeness of Elton John that is eerily accurate.

Harry sighs, drawing Louis’ attention away from a pumpkin carving of Lada Gaga. “I can explain.”

Louis can’t help but laugh, unsure if he’s being rude but unable to help it. “Mate,” he says, “this is a ridiculous amount of pumpkins.”

“I know,” Harry groans, covering his face with his hands, “and this is only the living room. Wait ‘til you see the kitchen – it’s downright hard to walk in there.”

Louis laughs again, feeling more comfortable in doing so this time. Harry’s living room is so covered in orange gourds, he can barely tell what it would normally look like.

“My mate wanted to grow some for Halloween,” Harry explains, driving his voice up an octave as he mimics, “Let’s grow our own pumpkins this year, he said. It’ll be fun, he said,” Harry rolls his eyes dramatically, but he’s smiling. His voice returns to its normal, low pitch as he continues, “So we did. In _his_ backyard, thank god. But anyways, who knew pumpkins grew so easily? It’s out of control, really. He has even more than we do. Brings them over every now and then to clear his place out.”

Louis is actively biting the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting out laughing at Harry once more.

“I’ve eaten so many roasted pumpkin seeds, you have no idea,” Harry continues. “Pumpkin pie, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin spice themed anything you can possibly think of.”

“Anything?”

“Probably. The pumpkin mousse was not great, but I think everything else has come out okay.”

“Well, that’s good at least,” Louis says earnestly, “I’m a disaster in the kitchen, but it sounds like you enjoyed trying out the new pumpkin recipes.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, “and, you know, my carving skills have improved significantly.”

Louis lets out another laugh, shrugging. “Honestly, that’s fair. Could be worse, you know?”

Harry nods. “Exactly. I suppose it’s easier said than done, but try to ignore them?”

“Not happening,” Louis says, “but I’ll do my best.”

Louis tries, and fails, to not be completely endeared. It’s a hilarious problem to have, but even more than that, he is touched that Harry is comfortable with having him over when his flat looks like a pumpkin patch. If their roles were reversed, Louis probably would have suggested a casual night out instead.

But then again, maybe that is to be expected. Louis would be trying to impress his soulmate whereas Harry probably doesn’t care about Louis’ opinion of his flat.

Louis swallows hard. He should tell him, he knows he should. And yet, he can’t bring himself to just yet.

“Do you want to be in charge of popcorn, or entertainment?” Harry asks, a welcome interruption.

Louis considers. He doesn’t know his way around Harry’s kitchen, but he also doesn’t know Harry’s taste in movies or shows. “Erm…entertainment.”

Harry hooks up his laptop to the TV, pulling up Netflix and choosing the family icon labeled _Proactive Parrot_ before passing the computer to Louis and padding off to the kitchen. Louis browses a little, curious what Harry is into. It seems to be mostly a combination of action movies, rom-coms, and comedy.

“Snooping, I see,” Harry calls from the doorway, sounding playful.

Still, Louis’ body jerks reflexively as he is called out. “Just seeing what you might like,” he replies, trying to sound calm. Then, “You’re kidding me. You’ve watched nearly all of _The Great British Baking Show_, but you haven’t watched _Queer Eye_?”

Harry chuckles. “I’ve been meaning to. But what can I say? I needed inspiration for pumpkin recipes. Besides, baking shows are the best.”

It’s not Louis’ cup of tea, but he doesn’t argue.

“Well c’mon then, let’s get you started,” he says instead, selecting it and sitting back on the couch.

Harry joins him a moment later with a bag of popcorn and some candy.

It’s almost too easy, spending time with Harry. They chat occasionally throughout the show, giving each other glimpses into their lives when they relate to something, and cheering aloud in agreement at the more powerful lines. Harry seems to love it, which Louis is pleased by, and it’s fun to watch together. They finish off the popcorn all too quickly and are sitting comfortably, leaning into each other, but not quite cuddling, when the lock on the front door clicks in the background.

“Hey, H,” a voice calls, followed by footsteps. A man comes into view moments later, arms laden with grocery bags. He blinks at the sight of Louis and Harry on the couch and promptly trips over a pumpkin, nearly sending his produce flying. Fortunately, he catches himself in an impressive twist, hopping on one foot for a moment before righting himself.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Harry says, nudging Louis’ shoulder and grinning, “He looks like Jonathan, right?”

It’s true. The man in front them does indeed bear striking resemblance to Jonathan from Queer Eye, but Louis suspects it’s just due to their long, brown hair.

“Oh, come off it,” Louis says. “If your hair was that long, you’d look like him too.”

“No,” Harry protests, “there are other similarities.”

His Jonathan-resembling flatmate clears his throat to interrupt. “Uh, hi. I’m Mitch.”

“Hey. I’m Louis,” Louis says.

Mitch doesn’t say anything, but he also doesn’t make any move to continue inside and put his food away.

“Do you…need help?” Harry asks, flicking his attention away from the screen and to Mitch again.

“Uh,” Mitch shakes his head, still frowning at them in confusion. “No. No, I’m good.”

Harry narrows his eyes, dropping a hand down to squeeze Louis’ thigh. “Give me a sec, you keep watching,” he says, before standing and taking one of Mitch’s bags for him. “C’mon, let me give you a hand.”

They disappear from the room, talking in hushed tones.

Louis isn’t actively trying to eavesdrop, but if he happens to overhear some of their conversation, he really isn’t to blame.

“You’re gaping at us like a fish,” Harry hisses. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with _me_?” Mitch whispers back. “You, aka Mr. No-Commitment, No-Attachment, No-Soulmate Harry Styles…you are on a date!”

His voice had risen considerably throughout the sentence and Harry shushes him urgently once he’s finished. They speak quieter after that, and Louis doesn’t make out anything else.

Swallowing, he tries to turn his attention back to the show. _No-commitment, no-attachment, no-soulmate_ echoes in his head in a loop. He tugs self-consciously on the sleeve of his shirt, feeling his compass tattoo safely hidden beneath the fabric.

“Louis?” Harry’s voice comes over the volume from the TV.

“Yeah?” Louis turns, finding Harry standing in the doorway to the kitchen, looking resigned. Mitch is standing behind him, arms folded across his chest.

“Do you mind telling Mitch here,” Harry jerks a thumb unnecessarily at his flatmate, as if somehow Louis could have forgotten who Mitch is over the course of the last five minutes, “what exactly our arrangement is.”

“Our arrangement?” Louis raises an eyebrow, not a fan of the phrase. It sounds like they’ve been set up somehow, though he supposes that in a way they have been.

“Well, I mean…” Harry gives Mitch a look. “We’re taking it slow, but…” he turns back to Louis, “we’re dating, right?”

“Yes…” Louis says slowly. “I’m sorry, what is this about?”

“Mitch doesn’t believe that I’ve been fully honest with you,” Harry explains.

“You’re really on a date with him right now?” Mitch asks, eyebrows knit together. “And you know that he doesn’t believe in soulmates? And is actively trying to have his tattoo removed?”

“You _what_?” Louis all but shouts, feigning enragement. Harry’s face contorts with total disbelief and confusion in response, sending him into a fit of laughter almost immediately. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Louis assures quickly, pausing to catch his breath, and Mitch huffs out a laugh himself.

“Not funny,” Harry says, but he’s fighting back a smile.

“So, you do know?” Mitch prods.

“Of course,” Louis shrugs, adopting a serious expression as he returns to the matter at hand. “Harry told me that he doesn’t believe in the soulmate system the day we first met. I don’t see how that matters to me, though. It’s his business, really.”

“But you’re dating,” Mitch says, looking perplexed. “It’s not casual sex or friends with benefits or whatever. Hell, Harry said you two haven’t even kissed.”

Louis shrugs, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He’s certainly thought about kissing Harry enough times, but since he’d been halfheartedly trying to keep his distance, he’d resisted initiating it. “And?”

“What’s the point of dating, unless you’re hoping to find love?” Mitch asks. “But if you believe in soulmates,” he addresses Louis, “then you shouldn’t be trying to find love with Harry.”

Louis swallows, feeling a tug of nerves in his gut. This is beginning to feel like an interrogation, and he doesn’t know if the flimsy excuses he has strung along so far are up to the task.

He could tell them the truth, but this doesn’t seem like a good moment for it. He might not know Harry fully yet, but he knows him well enough to guess that he won’t be happy to hear that Louis has been keeping this secret. Admitting that they are soulmates because Harry’s overprotective roommate forced him to, is definitely not the way to bring it up. That conversation should be private - and soon.

Louis can see where his side of the story has holes in it. His actions make sense with the additional information that Louis is Harry’s soulmate, of course, but as far as Mitch and Harry know, he’s being unreasonable.

“I like him,” Louis says simply, not even realizing until the words are out of his mouth just how true they are. He truly likes Harry for who he is, and not because of the tattoos that link them.

The left corner of Harry’s lips curves upwards in a shy smile.

Louis feels himself smiling right back.

“So you’re dating because…?” Mitch raises his eyebrows expectantly.

Right. Louis frowns a little as he remembers that it isn’t normal to date for any reason other than having matching tattoos.

“Well, maybe us dating is our way of finding out which of us is right about the soulmate system,” Louis says after a moment of silence, reminiscent of what he and Harry had talked about at the café on their first date.

Mitch scoffs, rolling his eyes. “There are better ways to figure that out than waiting around to see if you idiots fall in love with each other.”

Louis is aware that their situation seems idiotic, but he can’t help but feel indignant at the words. “_Hey_, maybe it’s not the most conventional, but-”

“Break into city hall,” Mitch says, as if Louis isn’t speaking.

Louis stops abruptly, mouth hanging open from where he was about to form his next word. “Uh,” he blinks at Mitch, glancing at Harry before returning to gaping at his flatmate. “What?”

“Huh,” Harry hums thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea.”

“A _good_ idea?” Louis demands. “No, it’s definitely not.”

There is far too much law breaking in his life lately.

“Rumor has it, that’s where they store the records of who is whose soulmate,” Harry explains. When he sees the incredulous look Louis is giving him, he continues, “The theory is, when a baby is born and assigned a birth certificate, the hospital injects them with a latent drug which will form the baby’s tattoo in 18 years. The shape of the tattoo is determined based on who that child’s soulmate is. They say that hospitals communicate with each other to decide what tattoo to use and then submit records of the pairing to city hall.”

“Oh, please. Surely if this is such a widespread theory, others have tried to break in,” Louis says, realizing belatedly that he is not actually arguing with their logic.

“Of course,” Harry says, shrugging. “Never here, though. I saw some reports of attempted break-ins at Paris City Hall, Washington D.C. - you know, big cities. Haven’t heard much of anything from small towns like ours.”

“Security is probably less here too. Especially compared to places like Washington,” Mitch chimes in.

“So we’re doing it?” Harry asks, looking excited.

“Why not?” Mitch says.

Louis can think of a million reasons to answer that, but somehow they all fade away as he looks at Harry’s eager expression. “It’s not going to work anyways,” he says, a weak agreement if one at all.

Harry is undeterred. If anything, his smile widens. He extends a hand with his palm facing downwards and waits patiently for Louis and Mitch to catch on, placing their hands over his. Then, he throws his arm up excitedly and cheers, “Alright, team! Let’s do some recon.”

-

Harry’s plan for reconnaissance consists of googling City Hall’s blueprints and trying to find weak spots. He has an alarming air of experience about him as he analyzes the blueprint, but Louis tries not to think about that too much.

Mitch is sat next to Harry, leaning too close as he helps scrutinize over the plans. Louis had quickly discovered that he lacked the ability to make anything useful out of the document and is instead sprawled across the couch, phone pressed to his ear as he waits for an answer.

“Invite a friend,” Mitch had told him. “Three’s not a good number for a heist.”

“A heist?” Louis had echoed, mentally running through his list of friends that he could call on for something like this.

He could ask Liam, whose morals obligated him against doing such crimes, or Niall, whose boyfriend’s morals obligated him against doing such crimes. Neither was a great option.

Niall picks up on the third ring.

“Niall Horan,” the familiar Irish accent says his full name as he picks up. It’s certainly not the proper way to answer a phone, and Louis wonders absently if he should be concerned about the quality of his choice in receptionists.

“Niall, it’s me. Louis,” Louis says.

“Oh, hey Lou!” Niall says cheerfully, as if he hadn’t seen the caller ID before answering. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Louis swallows, “we’ve broken the law together before, right?”

Niall doesn’t reply. After a moment of nothing but static, he says, “That’s a trick question, innit? Is someone forcing you to do this, trying to record proof of an _alleged_ crime that _did not happen_?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but a small part of him is grateful that Niall is on his toes. He wouldn’t have thought of that, but he supposes it is a possible situation. “No, Niall. It’s just me, I promise.”

“Well, that’s what you’d say if someone was-”

“I’m going to break into City Hall,” Louis interrupts. “Do you want in?”

Niall splutters into the receiver. “You’re going to do _what_? Why?”

“You heard me,” Louis says, “ and Harry and I, along with his flatmate.”

“Oi,” Mitch calls out, looking up from where he and Harry are poring over the blueprints. “Just name all the accomplices and detail the crime, why don’t you?” When Louis looks at him blankly, he all but snarls, “Keep it on a need-to-know basis, please.”

Louis shrugs, ignoring him and saying down the line, “Rumor has it, records of soulmate pairings are there. That means there could be proof that there’s something suspicious about the soulmate system.”

“So you’re trying to prove that soulmates don’t exist…” Niall says slowly.

“Yes.”

“…With your soulmate,” he finishes, sounding rightfully confused. And Jesus, Louis has really gotten himself into a mess of a situation, hasn’t he?

“Erm,” Louis pauses, “yes, I suppose.”

“And you’re asking me,” Niall continues, “whose soulmate is a cop, who you united me with… to help you.”

Louis purses his lips. “Yep.”

There’s a sigh on the other end and Louis pictures Niall with his head in his hands, tugging at his blond hair as he thinks.

“What if I say no?” Niall asks after a moment.

“Then I’ll ask you to please not mention this to Zayn, and I’ll ask Liam.”

“What if you guys actually find what you’re looking for?” Niall asks then, sounding serious. “What are you going to do if you’re standing there, illegally trespassing inside City Hall alongside your _soulmate_, and you discover that in fact he’s not any more meant for you than I am?”

Truthfully, Louis doesn’t have an answer to that. He had been so certain that Harry was his soulmate, from the overpowering attraction to complete adoration he feels for the man, he’d hardly entertained the possibility that Harry might be an average person who is just as compatible with him as anyone else.

Louis swallows. The silence likely tells Niall all he needs to know, but Niall doesn’t break it. “Well. I’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, I guess.”

Niall sighs again, but he sounds resigned more than anything else. “I’ll do it,” he says, “but only because you desperately need someone in your corner.”

“Thanks, Niall,” Louis says gratefully.

“Don’t mention it,” Niall says, smile evident in his voice. There’s a pause, then, “Seriously. Don’t mention this. Especially not in front of Zayn.”

“You got it,” Louis says, “and I’m sorry, for creating secrets that you need to keep from him.”

“Ah, well,” Niall says, sounding unbothered. “Depending on how this break-in goes, it might not matter, eh?”

It’s meant to be a lighthearted, witty statement, Louis knows, but the words cause an unwelcome tug of worry in his gut.

-

And that is how Louis finds himself on his stomach, cool metal pressing against him from all four sides as he wriggles his way along the air shaft of City Hall. Harry is in the lead, followed by Niall, and Louis brings up the rear. It’s not his fault that there’s a large distance between himself and Niall, whereas there is next to no space between Niall and Harry. Louis has curves; it’s a tighter squeeze for him.

Grumbling as he notices the gap, Louis doubles his efforts to try to get closer to Niall.

“We’re above the main hallway now,” Niall narrates in a whisper to his iPhone camera, which is set to selfie mode and is currently taping everything they’re doing.

(“Didn’t you know I’ve gotten into vlogging?” Niall had asked Louis before they entered the building. “Besides, it’s important that we capture everything to show it’s authentic. Can you imagine if we just came out with a snapshot of a couple soulmate records? No one would believe us.”

“I’m having trouble keeping straight which side you’re on,” Louis had told him, and Niall had shrugged, starting to film an introduction.)

There’s a sudden burst of static in his ear, followed by a hushed yelp from Niall as he startles, fumbling to not drop his phone, which indicates that this message is broadcast to all three of them. Louis smacks a hand at his ear, seconds away from ripping the damned earpiece out, when Mitch’s voice comes through from where he is posted in a van outside the building.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low. “Keep going straight, and in about five minutes you should reach some rooms that Harry and I have identified as being of interest to the left and right. You can split up, or stick together, but let me know before you enter any room so that I can override the security camera footage for it first.”

“Got it,” Harry whispers back.

There’s a click, which Louis assumes is Mitch ending his connection temporarily, but it’s followed by another short burst of static in his right ear.

“Hey, Louis,” Mitch rasps, sounding conversational. “Just talking to you now. I want to clear something up.”

Louis doesn’t respond, partly because he doesn’t know what to say and mostly because he’s busy sucking in his stomach to wiggle towards Niall.

Mitch doesn’t seem to mind, continuing on, “Regardless of how tonight goes, if you hurt Harry, I will bring that same pain upon you, tenfold. I will stab you in the back with your own betrayal, reach in to grab your heart, and crush it. I will carve regrets into your skin and then make you watch as long as you live while I harvest your organs. I will-”

Louis chokes on his own saliva in shock, and Niall stops in front of him, craning his neck and angling his phone towards Louis to check on him. “You good?”

“Yeah, good,” Louis says to Niall. Then, to Mitch, “Enough.”

Niall is giving him a funny look.

“Good enough,” Louis repeats, feigning innocence.

“Your agreement to date without worrying about soulmates is fine and dandy for you. I wouldn’t mind if both you and Harry believed in soulmates, or if neither of you did,” Mitch snarls. It would be more intimidating if they had bought a higher quality communication system. As it is, the cheap earpiece crackles and Mitch’s voice comes out somewhat warbled and choppy. “But the way it is now? You get to have Harry hold you, care for you, and fall in love with you, but someday you’ll find the one with ink matching yours and you’ll drop everything for them. You’ll drop _Harry_. And if he has let himself fall for you - the way I know he will, because all he goddamned wants is to fall in love with someone for real - you’ll break him. And I can’t let that happen.”

Louis swallows, wondering vaguely if the audio is good enough for Mitch to hear. He wishes he could explain to Mitch that Harry is his soulmate. It’s really the only explanation that makes his actions rational, and it’s unbelievable that he’s kept it a secret for this long as is.

“Tread lightly, Tomlinson,” Mitch hisses. Louis isn’t sure where Mitch learned his last name, but it sends a shiver down his spine.

There is a bit of feedback, then blissful silence. Louis tries to focus on moving forwards again, having slipped even further behind while Mitch was threatening him.

A few minutes later, Harry calls, “Here’s the split. Should we stick together or split up?”

“We should be a little quieter,” Niall says, though nearly at the same volume as Harry.

“Splitting up might be more time efficient, which would lessen our chances of getting caught,” Mitch says in their ears, “but there’s an odd number of you.”

“We’ll split up, then,” Harry decides.

“I don’t really want to be alone,” Niall admits.

“That’s fine,” Harry assures him. “You and Louis take the left, and I’ll head right.”

“No,” Mitch interrupts, though Harry has already begun maneuvering down the split to the right. “Louis and Niall are friends. This gives them the perfect opportunity to pull a fast one.”

Louis huffs, forgetting to be quiet in his annoyance. “We’re all a team here,” he says, unable to keep his derision towards Mitch out of his tone. “We’re not going to screw anyone over.”

“I’m not saying you want to,” Mitch says, though Louis isn’t sure how he can possibly be defending himself. “Crimes of opportunity happen, is all.”

Still, Harry calls out, “Fine. Niall, come with me. Louis, you can go to the left.”

Louis feels his heart sink a little as Niall moves to follow Harry to the right. In fact, this would be the perfect opportunity for Mitch to screw Louis over. He could let the security camera coverage slip in Louis’ room, and no one would be the wiser. Louis swallows down his doubts. It’s like he said before, they are all a team. He needs to trust Mitch, no matter how difficult their recent talk has made it to do so.

“You should both be clear,” Mitch says a few minutes later, as Louis has started moving to the left. “Haven’t seen any security guards yet and I’m ready to override both rooms anytime.”

Not long after that, Louis glimpses a vent in front of him. Most likely, it’s over one of the rooms that Mitch and Harry had deemed to be a potential storage space for soulmate records.

“Looks like our room is an office,” Harry’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Okay, good. I’m going to cut their footage now, then,” Mitch says. “Check the desk, and those filing cabinets on the far wall.”

Harry affirms this, and then there is silence.

Louis inches over to his vent, peering through the horizontal slats. “I’m at my room, I think,” he says. “Looks like file storage, which is promising.”

“Good,” Mitch says, “overriding the cameras now… Okay, yep. You’re good to go.”

Fingers trembling, Louis forces the vent out of its place as quickly and quietly as he can. He gulps, not sure he’ll even fit through the opening it reveals.

It is a bit of a tight squeeze, causing some inevitable and unfortunate banging noises as he forces himself through. He lands with a thud in a heap on the floor, certainly not one of his finest moments.

Scrambling upwards, he says to the others, “Might’ve made some noise getting in. Not sure if that caused any trouble.”

“Don’t see anything,” Mitch replies immediately. “I’ll let you know if I do. But don’t turn on the lights, yeah?”

Louis nods, though he’s not sure if Mitch can see him. Instead, he pulls out his phone flashlight.

The room is a mess of filing cabinets, lined in rows that snake around the room to form narrow walkways. Folders are stacked precariously atop these cabinets, making Louis worry that he will cause a domino effect of toppling papers before the night is over.

He peers at the label on the filing cabinet in front of him: _Marriage Certificates_. It’s not locked, though he does have to yank rather hard to get the drawer to open. It yields with a screeching sound, and Louis winces. Peering inside, there are indeed folders filled with what seem to be marriage records.

He ambles around the room, finding labels for housing agreements, birth certificates, and other documents. He checks a few of the drawers, just to ensure that the labels aren’t falsified to throw him off, but finds everything to be accurate - except for one filing cabinet that was intended to be zoning agreements, but is actually a pile of rejected resumes.

Louis is about to announce that there is nothing here and try to figure out what the exit plan is – surely he’s not expected to be able to climb back up and squeeze into the air vent again, is he? – when he sees something. There is a small door near the back of the room, tucked away in the corner and somewhat hidden by yet more filing cabinets.

When he tries the handle, it’s locked.

“Louis,” Mitch’s voice comes, sounding worried. “Where did you go?”

Louis looks around, trying to figure out if there is danger heading his way. Surely Mitch wouldn’t sound so panicked for his wellbeing otherwise.

“What do you mean? I’m in the same room, in the far corner,” Louis whispers after a moment in which no surprises jump out at him.

“I can’t see you from the camera anymore,” Mitch tells him.

“Huh,” Louis hums. “There’s a locked door here, in the back. I don’t know if it’s that promising, but nothing else in here is.”

There’s a bit of silence in which Louis assumes Mitch is mulling this over. Louis fills the time by fiddling with the door handle, attempting his best shot at lock picking. It would be a cool skill to have, he thinks, but not one that he particularly cares to invest time into attaining.

“We found some keys in here,” Niall’s voice comes, then. “What do you think the chances are that they work on your door?”

“Slim,” Louis replies, “but I suppose there’s no harm in trying.”

Louis is looking at the filing cabinets near the door – parking permits, mostly – when suddenly, there is a soft click from the main door to the room he is in. It’s a quiet sound, but to Louis, it seems deafening.

He sucks in a sharp breath and ducks down, plastering his body against the filing cabinets to hide himself and mentally cursing Mitch for not noticing that someone was approaching. A traitorous thought crosses his mind: what if Mitch had noticed, but deliberately didn’t warn him?

“_Niall_,” he hears Mitch’s voice in his ear as he focuses on trying to keep his breathing soft and steady. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving Lou the keys,” Niall answers, sounding confused. The sound of his voice comes both in Louis’ ear and…in the room with him?

Tentatively, Louis shifts his position and slowly peeks out from behind the cabinet he is using to shield himself.

“Lou, where are you?” Niall’s voice comes again.

“You walked through the goddamned hallway, Horan,” Mitch grits out.

Louis can see Niall now, or at least the tuft of his blond hair standing near the doorway. His body is otherwise blocked by stored files, but his face is visible, his eyes wide and his mouth open in realization.

“Oh,” Niall whispers. “Oh, shit.”

“I don’t know if anyone saw you, but I didn’t have that camera covered,” Mitch tells them, and if Louis were in the van with him, he is sure the other man would be radiating stress.

“Uh,” Harry’s voice comes then, slow and deep. “So that would mean, I probably shouldn’t have followed him.”

“_Damn_ you, Styles,” Mitch says. “Fuck, get _out_ of the hallway already. Get in the room, _Jesus_.”

The door clicks again, and then a taller head appears next to Niall’s, topped with a familiar swoop of brown curls.

“I’ll monitor for security guards, but I think you should probably get out of there soon,” Mitch informs them. “If they managed to not notice both of you, that would truly be a miracle.”

“Let’s just try the keys,” Niall says, striding through the maze of files towards Louis. “And then we’ll leave.”

“But if it works?” Harry asks.

“We’ll check it out quickly,” Louis assures.

Niall approaches him, holding out a ring of keys. Louis takes it, pressing the first one into the lock. It doesn’t fit, and he slides it out to try the next. He isn’t particularly expecting any of the keys to work, so it comes as a complete shock when the fourth key turns smoothly.

“Oh shit, gang,” Harry says from where he is peering over Louis’ shoulder.

“We’re not a gang,” Mitch grumbles.

Louis twists the knob, just as surprised to find that it gives easily and he can swing open the door with no trouble at all.

Fortunately, the door is well-oiled and doesn’t make a sound as it opens. Unfortunately, as soon as Louis steps into the room, a shrill alarm starts going off, accompanied by flashing red lights.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis curses, reflexively freezing. Then, he spins around, turning away from the small room that was revealed, walls lined with yet more filing cabinets. “We should run, right?”

“No, are you crazy?” Harry asks, pushing past Louis to enter the room. “That means we probably found it. Or at least, we found_ something_. Niall, are you getting this?”

“He’s not the crazy one, Styles,” Mitch sounds borderline hysterical. “Security guards headed your way. They’re coming from the main office, so if you run into the hall and to the right, you might have a chance of making it out the side exit.”

Louis bounces in place, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

But Harry pays him no mind, seeming unaffected as he scans the labels on the drawers. “It’s alphabetized, whatever it is,” he announces, yanking open one of the drawers. He picks a file at random, pulling it out and flipping open the manila folder to skim over its contents.

There’s a moment of silence, or more accurately, silence from Harry. The sounds that Louis has tuned out as background noise include the piercing wail of the alarm, a string of continuous expletives from Mitch, and hushed excited narration from Niall as he holds his phone camera up to capture the inside of the room.

“Niall,” Harry says then, the syllable coming out more hastily than anything Louis has ever heard Harry say. “Niall, get this. It’s…This is it.”

When Harry looks up, he meets Louis’ eyes. His expression isn’t fully decipherable, probably because Louis’ brain is panicking in every possible way, but it still causes Louis’ stomach to sink to his knees. Had Harry grabbed his own file? Did he know now that Louis was his assigned soulmate?

Harry swallows, looking away as he holds up the file for Niall to capture on film. “See here? Some fellow named Edward Sheeran and someone named Cherry Seaborn. The date of this is May 7th, 1992.”

“Get the fuck out of there already, will you?” Mitch’s voice comes urgently. “You’re about to be fucking in jail.”

Niall ends his video, pocketing his phone and cocking his head to one side thoughtfully. “I wonder if Zayn would be into that,” he muses.

“Not what I meant,” Mitch snarls, but fortunately Harry has snapped into action.

“The window,” Harry says, pointing to a narrow rectangular window near the ceiling, behind Louis. “If we stand on the file cabinets, I think we can reach it.”

“It might work,” Mitch says, though he sounds uncertain. “It’s your only option at this point. You won’t make it out running anymore.”

Louis goes first, which in retrospect is a mistake. But in the moment, Harry is busy putting back the file and Niall is helping him lock the small door behind them.

So, Louis goes. He pops open the window without any trouble and puts his arms through, gripping the frame to haul his body out. It is smaller than the vent opening was, though, and he gets caught at the hips, his arse – an asset that he usually is quite proud of for its size – for once causing him to wish it was smaller.

“I’m stuck,” Louis calls, feeling an embarrassed flush rushing to his cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m stuck.”

Niall clambers up after him right away, standing on the file cabinet that Louis had used as a launchpad to reach the window in the first place and grabbing onto his legs to push him forwards. “Suck it in,” Niall hisses, groaning with effort as he leans his whole body weight against Louis.

Louis doesn’t have a chance to respond indignantly, because just then the door leading to the hallway bangs open, accompanied by a gruff shout of, “Hands where I can see them!”

It’s a lost cause, but still no one complies.

Niall keeps his hands firmly around Louis’ thighs, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to force him forwards. Louis, in turn, keeps his hands planted on the window frame, pushing against it desperately for leverage. Harry, for some reason, is opening random drawers and shoving various papers into his pockets, stuffing his pants, his coat, and even shoving a few files under his shirt.

“Freeze!” the gruff shout comes again, punctuated by the cocking of a gun.

This time, they obey.

Louis feels Niall’s hands release their grip on his legs as he slowly raises them into the air. He copies the movement himself, although it’s useless considering his arms are out the window. Harry complies as well, two folders falling out from where they were tucked under his armpits as he raises his hands up.

There is a click in Louis’ ear, which means that Mitch has disconnected. Most likely, he’s tailing it out of there.

Louis sighs. He tries (and fails) to think of how this could have gone worse.

-

“We could have died,” Harry tells him, extending one of his long fingers to count as he lists the ways in which this could have in fact gone worse.

Louis regrets voicing his thoughts aloud.

“They might not have had butter in the fridge,” Harry says, adding a second finger, “and then we might have had to call the fire department in order to get you unstuck from that window. That would have been _embarrassing_.”

Louis rubs his tummy self-consciously, glancing down at his grease-stained shirt. As if what had happened wasn’t already embarrassing.

“Niall’s phone could have run out of battery,” Harry adds, lifting a third finger, “and then we wouldn’t have,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “proof.”

The policeman in the driver’s seat clears his throat as he turns on his left signal and pulls into a turning lane. “You understood those Miranda rights I read to you, right?” he asks. He’s a large man, with pale skin and greying hair cropped close around his head, mostly hidden by his police cap. He seems nice enough, as if he is genuinely concerned about Harry’s chatty tendencies. “How you have the right to remain silent and anything you say can and will be used against you?”

Harry closes his mouth with a clack of teeth and they ride the rest of the way in silence, the three of them squished close in the backseat and Louis smelling noticeably of salted butter.

-

When they arrive at the police station, they are immediately hauled off in separate directions. Louis is taken to a small room with a table, two chairs, a camera, and absolutely nothing else. It’s an interrogation room, Louis realizes, complete with a reflective mirror along one wall, which he presumes is a one-way mirror through which other officers will be monitoring.

He settles himself in one of the chairs and waits.

It’s around twenty minutes later, to the best of Louis’ time estimating skills – he has Achy Breaky Heart stuck in his head and he’s almost certain he’s hummed it from start to finish at least five times – when an officer enters.

“Hello,” the officer greets him politely, waiting for the door to click shut behind him before crossing the small room and flipping the available chair around so he can sit on it backwards, legs on either side of the back of the chair. He has grey hair which clearly used to be black, and to some extent still is, though less prominently on the sides of his head. He also has thin lips, wrinkles at his cheeks from smiling, and kind eyes. _Maybe_, Louis allows himself to think,_ there’s a chance that things will be okay_. “I’m Robbie.”

“Hello,” Louis greets in return.

Robbie raises an eyebrow at him, looking amused. “Not going to introduce yourself?”

Louis shrugs.

“We checked your wallet already,” Robbie reminds him. “You’re not gaining anything by hiding your identity.”

“I’ve never been arrested before,” Louis says, still not providing his name.

“Well, Louis,” Robbie tells him, “believe it or not, I know that too.”

“Right,” Louis says. They probably ran a background search on him as soon as he was brought in.

“You’re not off to a great start at being forthcoming, but why don’t you tell me what you and your friends were doing in City Hall tonight,” Robbie says, taking out a notepad and leaning back in his chair to get comfortable.

Surely, Niall’s phone has been confiscated by now. Surely, they’ve seen the footage in which he narrates literally every moment of their heist.

And yet, Louis doesn’t feel so sure.

“We wanted to see if we could,” he says, “break into City Hall without being caught, I mean.”

“And why is that?” Robbie asks, his expression neutral.

Louis shrugs. “We’re thrill seekers. Got bored.”

Robbie sighs. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, rubbing his temples. Then, he looks up at Louis, a trace of irritation etched into his features. “The way I see it, you’ve got two options right now. Option one, come with me, be hooked up to a lie-detector, and tell me why you really were in City Hall tonight. Or option two, stay in a holding cell overnight while our team reviews the security footage and tries to determine what all you are charged for. Breaking and entering, at least. Destruction of property, I would imagine.”

“If we’re going to be charged anyways, what’s the point in coming with you and telling the truth?” Louis asks.

Robbie shakes his head. “Depending on your explanation, you could get off with just a fine instead of jail time.”

Not spending time in jail certainly sounds like the better option.

“Alright,” Louis agrees.

“Follow me,” Robbie instructs. He stands, then turns and adds, “and keep in mind that you are surrounded by police officers, under surveillance, and we will add to your charges if you try anything now.”

Louis nods, standing and following obediently as Robbie guides him out of the interrogation room and into a room that looks like it is used for security monitoring, monitors lining one wall displaying videos of various angles of the station.

A woman with pale skin, dyed blonde hair, and a sharp nose looks up when they enter.

“The last two interrogations, please,” Robbie says to her, and she nods, reaching for the computer mouse and pulling up the footage requested.

Niall’s face is on a large monitor to the left; Harry’s is on the monitor next to it.

“Play the first one,” Robbie says, and the woman complies.

“It was a dare,” Niall says onscreen. “We were dared by a friend of ours to do it. We didn’t mean any harm.”

The screen freezes. Louis gulps.

“The next one,” Robbie says.

“I’m a kleptomaniac,” Harry says, slowly. Louis realizes he has stopped breathing, and by the time Harry gets out the word ‘kleptomaniac,’ he feels short on oxygen. “Wanted to steal some stuff.”

“And what did you steal?” an officer onscreen asks.

“Records of stuff, mostly. A stapler. Keys. I think this one is a record of debt – does that mean they won’t have to repay it?”

The clip ends, and Louis tears his eyes away from the screen to find both Robbie and the female officer looking at him expectantly.

“I, uh,” Louis swallows, mind racing, “didn’t know that Harry was a kleptomaniac.”

“He’s not,” Robbie says, tone clipped. “To the best of our knowledge, anyways. It’s just a cover story.”

“Though he did manage to steal quite a lot of marriage records,” his partner notes.

“So,” Robbie says, “what will it be? Lie detector?”

“Yeah,” Louis nods, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, “sure.”

-

“What’s your name?” Robbie asks, once Louis has been properly hooked up to the polygraph. There’s a blood pressure cuff around his arm, wires wrapped around his chest, and a device fit snugly over his index finger.

If he cranes his neck, Louis can see a needle etching steady marks onto a sheet of graph paper. He breathes out slowly, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

He heard once that if you can convince yourself that something false is true, the polygraph won’t be able to detect the lie. He wonders if he is capable of that.

“Louis Tomlinson,” Louis says.

“Good,” Robbie says. “Why are you here tonight?”

“I was caught breaking into City Hall.”

Robbie studies the machine in front of him, nodding. “And why were you breaking into City Hall?”

“To see if it was possible,” Louis says, slowly, “and because of the soulmate system.”

“System?” Robbie looks mildly confused at the phrasing. “It’s not a system, it’s just fate. Destiny. It’s how it is.”

Knowing that Robbie is a firm believer in soulmates, that he has likely never doubted them for a moment in his life, gives Louis some hope. “Well, perhaps. But some people,” he pauses to marvel at the fact that he might be part of this group now. It’s not the time for introspection, though. He continues, “Some people believe that soulmates are determined by the government. Harry, in particular, is one of those people.”

“Oh, he’s one of those conspiracy theorists, eh?” Robbie says.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, grateful that this is all true. “He heard a rumor that the records of soulmate pairings and planned pairings are stored in City Hall.”

“Well sure,” Robbie says, his tone casual now, as if he has forgotten momentarily that he is still technically interrogating someone who has committed a serious crime. “Once you find your soulmate, you submit a form to City Hall and they keep record of it.”

Louis freezes as he processes what Robbie has said, thinking of the document they had found. Their so-called proof doesn’t actually prove anything. It was perfectly legitimate for City Hall to have records of successful pairings; it would only show that the system was a hoax if they had found records of planned pairings. “Oh, fuck.”

When he looks up, Robbie is raising an eyebrow at him. “So, you snuck in to try to find proof that soulmates are a scheme of the government?” he leans back in his chair thoughtfully. “I don’t know if that will get you off of your charges much, actually.”

“Well, wait, but there’s more to it,” Louis says, thinking quickly. He doesn’t want to tell him, to add Robbie of all people to the small circle of people who know his secret, and yet he doesn’t see any other choice. “Harry – you know, the one who believes this stuff – he’s my soulmate.”

Robbie’s eyebrows fly upwards and he jerks forward to analyze the polygraph reading. Apparently satisfied by what he sees, he looks up again distrustfully at Louis.

“But Harry doesn’t believe in soulmates. So we were trying to convince each other about whether or not it was real. The only way he would accept that soulmates were real, was if we weren’t able to find any signs that the government meddles with it. And, you know, I would only accept that it wasn’t real if we did find something showing that the government orchestrated it. So…” Louis trails off.

Robbie isn’t looking at him anymore, body hunched over as he focuses intensely on the polygraph. After a moment, he sits up straight again, saying to himself, “Well, I’ll be.”

Louis swallows. It’s weird, he thinks to himself, that he has now told a complete stranger about his soulmate situation and still has not yet told Harry himself. He really, really needs to do that soon.

“You’re telling me that you broke into City Hall in the name of love and soulmates?” Robbie asks.

“Erm…yes.”

The polygraph reading indicates that Louis has been telling the truth, and Robbie unhooks him from the machine with a teary look. “We can get your charges lessened, I’m sure.”

Louis breathes a sigh of relief.

Maybe the soulmate system isn’t so bad after all.

-

“How the hell did we get out of there?” Niall yells out into the cool night air, as they descend the stairs leading up to the police station, “And with a small fine, no less. Just enough to cover the cost of cleaning up after our messes, I’d guess. Maybe they threw in the cost of the butter too, but hell. I thought we’d be there overnight for sure, if not faced with a massive fine.”

“Shhh,” Harry hisses, smacking his hands in the general direction of Niall’s face in an effort to cover his mouth. “They can probably hear you in there. Do you want them to come out and haul us back in there for a re-evaluation?”

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” Niall says in a quieter voice as he nudges Louis with his shoulder. “I was going to make you pay my share of the fine anyways. Since you’re my boss and also the one who got me into this mess.”

“Hey,” Louis protests, but the more he thinks about it, the more he feels like Niall makes a fair point.

“Uh, guys,” Harry says, glancing around. They’ve now walked out into the parking lot, just to get away from the police station. “We don’t have a car, do we?”

“Nope,” Niall says. “Who lives closest?”

Louis gives them both a weird look. “Technology exists, doesn’t it? We can call a Lyft. Better yet, call fucking Mitch and make him pick us up.”

“My phone died on the ride over here,” Niall says, shrugging. “Fortunate though, because the cops didn’t bother to charge it up to search it, so they didn’t see my vlog.”

“It was a bit of a lackluster department, wasn’t it?” Harry asks, pulling a flip phone out of his pocket.

Louis had expected Niall to jump to Zayn’s defense – he wasn’t working tonight, but it is his precinct after all – but neither one of them says anything, both opting to gape at Harry’s phone instead.

“You,” Louis says after a moment, in which Harry pays them no mind, busy repeatedly pressing the down button to find Mitch’s contact, “you have a flip phone.”

“I do,” Harry beams, pressing a button and then lifting the phone to his ear. “It’s nice,” he explains. “Gets me away from the toxicity of social media.”

“Oh my god,” Louis says, turning to Niall and feigning horror. “He’s one of _those _people. He probably likes avocado toast and kale salads – no, smoothies!”

“They’re good,” Harry defends, pouting. “It’s healthy for y- Oh, hey Mitch.”

“I win,” Louis proclaims.

“Yeah, can you come pick us up? We’re at the police department still,” Harry says to Mitch, while giving Louis a glare. “Uh, yeah, we can walk someplace nearby. They won’t suspect you for just giving us a ride, though. We’re off the hook, but- alright, fine.”

They walk to a taco shop down the block, filling the time with making fun of Harry for his healthy habits and insisting he order a greasy taco to make up for it.

“I like this kind of food, too, you know,” Harry insists, taking a large bite of his taco. Salsa dribbles down his chin and onto both his black jeans and the park bench they’re sitting on.

“Sure you do, Styles,” Louis says, unconvinced. “You’re a chef at a classy restaurant. You drink superfruit smoothies and eat quinoa. How often do you really come out for a messy, dirty, street taco?”

Harry takes another bite, humming thoughtfully. “Tonight.”

“Doesn’t count,” Niall chimes in. He munches on his own taco for a bit, and once he has finished, turns to Louis. “Hey, you have Zayn’s number right? Can I use your phone to send him a text? Want to give him a heads up in case he’s in trouble at work because of me tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Louis shifts his taco to his right hand, using his left to slide his phone out of his pocket and hand it to Niall.

“Hi Zayn,” Niall narrates aloud as he types. “This is Niall, borrowing Louis’ phone. Pulled a stunt and got caught sneaking into City Hall tonight. Was at the police station for a while, but it’s all cleared up now. I’ll explain more later, just thought you should know. Love you lots and lots and-”

A gray sedan pulls up in front of them, tooting its horn and effectively overpowering the rest of Niall’s love declaration. When Louis squints, he makes out Mitch in the driver’s seat, looking displeased.

“You got tacos?” Mitch demands as they all pile into the car. “Talk about unbelievable.”

“_Taco_ ‘bout unbelievable,” Harry echoes, grinning toothily.

“Get in, already,” Mitch grumbles, not deigning the joke any attention and instead scolding, “Harry, you’re spilling beans on my leather seats.”

“Bet you want me to _spill the beans_ about what happened tonight,” Harry says, but it’s muffled because he’s already bent over, picking up pinto beans from the floor in front of the passenger’s seat.

Mitch sighs. He takes a moment, as if to recover, before putting the car into reverse and backing out of his parking spot.

They drive in silence, and are halfway to Niall’s apartment when Mitch finally says, “Yeah, you’re right. I do.”

No one says anything for a minute, until Louis can’t take it anymore. “You do, what?”

“I do want you to spill the beans,” Mitch clarifies.

Harry looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Seriously,” Mitch says, taking one hand off of the wheel to give Harry’s shoulder a gentle shove. “How the hell did you all get out of that station? I thought I’d have three bails to pay tomorrow.”

“I told them I was a klepto,” Harry says, shifting his taco to his left hand in a move that sends lettuce spilling onto the seat as he simultaneously lifts his hips, his right hand coming down to unzip the fly of his jeans.

“Harry, you’re spilling,” Mitch complains.

“Um,” Louis has lost his ability to form coherent thought, eyes glued to where Harry has now popped open the button holding his pants up with one hand, reaching into them.

Decidedly anticlimactically, he pulls a folded piece of paper out of his jeans. It’s clearly one of the papers from City Hall; Louis can see the thick quality paper even from where he’s sitting in the backseat.

“What the hell?” Niall asks. “You stole that?”

“Had to fit my cover story,” Harry explains. Then, “Also, it’s the one that’s actually proof. A soulmate record.”

Mitch clears his throat. “I’m sorry. You told them you were a klepto, and they let you walk out of there scotch free?”

“I told them it was a dare,” Niall pipes up.

Mitch gives him a look through the rearview mirror.

“I, uh,” Louis’ mouth feels suddenly dry. “I told them we were thrill seekers.”

“And that _worked_?” Mitch demands. “No way. There’s no way.”

They pull up in front of Niall’s apartment complex, the familiar white building a much welcome sight.

Quietly, Louis continues, “Then they showed me footage of Niall and Harry’s bogus testimonies.” He avoids eye contact with anyone, studiously looking out the window at the passing cars. “So I told them that Harry and I were soulmates, but that he didn’t believe in soulmates, so we snuck into City Hall in search of proof one way or the other to settle it once and for all.”

The car is quiet. The only sound Louis hears is his own heart pounding.

Then, Harry whoops loudly, throwing his hands up and sending used napkins, soaked with salsa, flying into the air and onto the floor. “And they fell for it? That’s genius, Louis!”

“Yeah,” Louis mutters, but his mouth tastes bitter, “they thought it was the most romantic thing since the royal wedding. Told me they’d be able to get us out of there in no time, and well, here we are.”

“Quick thinking,” Mitch says, and Louis turns his head away from the window in time to see his nod of approval.

Harry is smiling widely, looking appreciative and relieved. Louis sneaks a glance at Niall, finding the normally cheerful lad looking devastated on his behalf.

“C’mon, get out of here, Nialler,” Louis says, punching his bicep lightheartedly and gesturing to the building they are illegally double parked in front of. “A few hours ago, I’m sure you didn’t even think you’d be here tonight.”

“Yeah, okay,” Niall says, though in fairness Louis hasn’t given him many options. He opens the car door and gets out, pausing to stick his head back in and say, “I’m coming into work late tomorrow, though. And you should too.”

“See you then,” Louis says agreeably.

They smile weakly at each other, words that they’re unable to say hanging in the air between them.

“Okay,” Niall says finally, closing the car door behind him and heading into his apartment without looking back.

Mitch pulls back into the road and drives the short distance to Louis’ place.

“Hey, about that contract you stole,” Louis says, suddenly remembering what Robbie had told him. “When people find their soulmate, they submit some forms to City Hall about it apparently. So it might not be what we think it is.”

“Aww,” Harry snaps his fingers, pursing his lips. “Well, I suppose that would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it?”

Louis shrugs.

“We’ll try again,” Harry says, sounding assured.

Louis and Mitch both voice their opposition, but Harry looks unbothered.

“Soulmates aren’t real,” Harry says confidently, “and we were so close to proving it. How can we stop now?”

“Right,” Louis swallows hard.

He gets out of the car, gives them both a wave, and heads into his apartment, rubbing over the compass on his forearm and trying to will his sinking heart to believe that there is a chance for him and Harry yet.


	5. I will not ask you, and neither would you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Louis has an interview (about his toiletries), goes on another date with Harry (he's already lost count), and discovers that there's no time for chivalry (when you're destined to be).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay on getting this update out! as always, i hope you enjoy.

Louis wakes up the next morning to an angry text from Zayn. He blinks at his phone blearily, too groggy to process why he’s on the receiving end of such bitterness. After a moment, he opens up the message thread, scrolling to see where Niall had texted Zayn yesterday. Instead of what he had dictated, it reads:

[To Zayn: 1:43 AM]

_hey Z. I got ur bf arrested tonight for helping me break into city hall. soz. xx_

Louis sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face tiredly. While it’s not the message Niall had led him to believe it was, it’s also not untrue. He lets Zayn’s “fuck you” go unanswered.

“Louis,” Liam says flatly when he enters the kitchen, looking up from where he is making what looks like an omelet.

“Liam,” Louis returns the greeting, not minding that Liam sounds a little cross with him.

After all, not only did he break into City Hall last night, but he invited Niall to accompany him instead of his longtime best friend. Liam has the right to be upset with him. In fact, Louis fully expects Liam to launch into a tirade about lawbreaking and loyalty, so Louis is caught off guard when instead he says:

“There’s a man waiting outside our apartment for you.”

Louis is not nearly awake enough for this day. He gets out a bowl, cereal, and milk, before turning to Liam. “There’s a man? Outside? For me?”

Liam nods before turning back to his pan, cursing as his omelet falls apart. “I invited him in, of course, but he refused.”

Louis pours milk over his Cheerios and pads over to the front door as Liam begins turning his breakfast into scrambled eggs.

“Hello,” Louis says, pulling open the door with one hand and balancing his bowl of cereal with the other. He doesn’t do a very good job of it, some milk dripping down onto the floor and landing just next to his visitor, a pale man with dark hair styled upwards who is sitting next to the door, hugging his knees and looking at his phone.

“Oh!” he says, looking up at Louis as if he is surprised to see him and scrambling to his feet. “Hi!”

Louis blinks at him, moving his cereal around the bowl and taking a bite.

“I’m Nick,” the other man says with a smile, extending a hand to shake. “Nick Grimshaw.”

“Hello,” Louis repeats, shifting the duty of holding the door open to his foot and moving his cereal bowl to his left hand so that he can properly shake Nick’s outstretched hand with his right.

“I’m from the _Daily Chronicle_,” Nick says by way of introduction, “I heard you might have a story for me.”

Louis hasn’t read or watched the news in ages, most of his information coming from friends’ social media updates. He won’t admit it, but it’s a miracle that he vaguely knows what’s happening in the country. Regardless, _Daily Chronicle_ doesn’t ring much of a bell to him.

“And that is…?”

“A local newspaper,” Nick says, giving him a funny look. “One of the only ones that covers this little town, you know.”

“Oh,” Louis thinks for a moment, lifting another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I think the only story I have is that my tattoo parlor recently had its grand opening. It was a great event. I can hook you up with a code for a 10% off coupon to distribute, if you’d like.”

Nick doesn’t look impressed. “No, that’s not a story.”

“But you said you were with the local news!” Louis defends. “This is local news, I think.”

“A _big_ story,” Nick says, lowering his voice. “I heard you’re a soulmate conspiracy theorist-”

“_Me?_”

“And that you and your team-”

“_My_ team?”

“Broke into City Hall last night in search of finding proof about soulmates being a government construct.”

Louis splutters.

“I’d love to interview you about it sometime,” Nick finishes with a bright smile, completely ignoring Louis’ interjections.

“That,” Louis says, swallowing, “sounds like a bad idea. But I appreciate you putting in the effort to make that offer.”

“I’ll let you advertise your tattoo parlor excessively throughout the interview,” Nick tries.

Louis considers. It would be good to get the word out, but he doesn’t want the parlor to be known as being run by a soulmate conspiracy theorist. After all, he’s trying to distance himself from potential future suspicion surrounding Liam’s soulmate tattoo removal – just in case. Publicly identifying as a conspiracy theorist would make him the top suspect.

“Tempting,” Louis says honestly, “but I’m still going to pass. Thanks, though.”

Nick sighs, shrugging. “Alright then. Well, hey, do you mind if I use your bathroom to rinse off my sleeve? You spilled milk on it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis winces. “Um. Sorry about that.”

Nick nods, stepping past him and into their apartment.

“First door on the right!” Louis calls after him, noticing belatedly that he hadn’t taken off his shoes at the door the way Liam insists everyone does when they enter. Louis will be cleaning the floors this week then.

“So you broke into City Hall,” Liam says conversationally, reaching for the salt to add to his cheesy scrambled eggs.

“That I did,” Louis affirms.

“With Harry,” Liam says, and it’s not a question.

“Yep,” Louis answers anyways, before adding honestly, “and Niall.”

“You’re breaking the law a lot lately,” Liam says.

“That…I am,” Louis agrees, “though in fairness, our grand opening event was perfectly legal.”

Liam gives him a look. “Any other crimes planned?”

“Not…” Louis bites down the word ‘yet’ before it leaves his lips, “that I know of.”

“Try to keep it that way, okay?” Liam says, looking up at Louis. His brown eyes are warm, filled with concern.

Nick comes back out before Louis has a chance to respond, wiping his hands dry on his jeans.

“Well, cheers mate,” Nick says to Louis, bobbing his head as if tipping an invisible hat towards him. “I’m just an intern looking for my big break, you know? If you change your mind, give me a call.”

Louis takes the business card Nick extends his way, gives him a wave, and locks the door behind him before heading back into the kitchen to enjoy the rest of his cereal.

-

“Have you met your soulmate?” Tasha, a sweet teenaged girl with brown hair and skin just a shade lighter, is looking at him imploringly, eyes wide.

Fortunately, she chose a good moment to ask the question, one in which Louis’ tattoo gun is not pressed against her skin. He might be a professional, but he is still prone to flinching when asked personal questions out of the blue.

She looks particularly young when looking up at him like this – and she had already looked young enough to begin with that Niall had asked for both her and her partner’s IDs when they first scheduled their appointment.

“I…have, actually,” Louis says slowly, not sure why he’s baring the truth for two girls who look hardly a day over 18 and don’t know him at all.

For some reason, he doesn’t want to lie to them. They remind him of his sisters, maybe. That is, if any two of his sisters were Latina and soulmates. It’s a bad comparison, and he immediately scratches it from his mind.

Rose, Tasha’s soulmate, makes an excited sound at his response, and Louis shakes the strange thought from his head. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Rose gushes, looking genuinely overjoyed on his behalf.

“Erm,” Louis hesitates, but fortunately Tasha is already answering for him.

“It’s like you fall in love a little more each day,” she says, smiling softly at Rose and squeezing her hand.

The two girls look at each other for a moment, a fond exchange occurring within their gaze that Louis is not privy to. It’s only a split second, and yet Louis feels like they somehow fit in an hour worth of conversation into that short glance. He’s surprised then, when Rose turns her attention back to him, eyes narrowed sharply.

“You said you’ve met your soulmate, right?” she asks, cocking her head to the side, wavy dark hair falling over her shoulder. “But you don’t seem nearly as happy about it as you ought to be, I think.”

Louis smiles thinly. “Don’t I?”

“Have you been together a long time?” Tasha asks, brows furrowed.

“He and I aren’t together yet,” Louis says, scooting back slightly on his stool, as if the minute distance will help separate him from this conversation.

“Ah,” Tasha says in understanding, and to Louis’ surprise, there’s an excited gleam in her eyes. “So you’re at the phase of the chase, then.”

“The chase?” Louis asks blankly. He’s not sure he likes the term, but he’s curious as to what these girls are on about.

“Yeah, you know,” Rose shrugs. “We’re just animals, when it comes down to it.”

Louis barks out a stunned laugh. “What?”

“She’s studying evolutionary biology,” Tasha offers as an explanation.

“It’s true though!” Rose argues, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. “That’s why it’s called a soul_mate_. We’re just animals trying to find ourselves a suitable mate. Meeting your soulmate, it’s a mating process. And you’ve got to show your potential mate that you’re worth their time.”

Louis glances between the two girls, not making an effort to hide his amusement.

“That’s why we’re here actually,” Tasha says. “We’re getting soulmate tattoos of our own.”

Louis had wondered about that. It’s not every day that he gets two soulmates wanting matching tattoos. After all, they have one tattoo already and it’s the most important one.

“You’ve already got soulmate tattoos, though,” Louis points out.

“We do,” Tasha agrees. “Those are the tattoos that brought us together.”

“These are the tattoos signifying that we’ll stay together,” Rose finishes.

Louis raises his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s damn romantic.”

Tasha beams. Rose rolls her eyes. “I _know_,” they say together, but with two completely different tones.

“Maybe we’ll get another set for our five year anniversary of meeting,” Tasha says dreamily. “Oh, and definitely for our wedding. Maybe we should wait ‘til the five year anniversary of our wedding?”

Rose shrugs, giving Tasha an indulgent look. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Tasha agrees, smiling. She turns to Louis. “And so will you. You’ve just got to show him, you know? That you want him. That you want to love him. He’ll come around.”

“Yeah?” Louis arches an eyebrow at the seemingly perfect couple. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“Oh, I am,” Tasha says seriously, motioning towards Rose. “Learned from experience.”

“Huh,” Louis says thoughtfully, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finishes up Tasha’s tattoo, a small rose on her inner wrist, and tells them both the standard information about taking care of their tattoos over the coming days. He had finished Rose’s earlier, a calligraphy script T with holly swirling around it.

“Good luck with your soulmate!” Rose calls out as they head back out towards the reception area, hand in hand.

Louis smiles at them, waving goodbye and calling out his thanks.

“Therapy session from two practically-children?” Niall teases.

“Hey,” Louis shrugs, “they say we can learn from the younger generation, you know?”

Niall laughs.

-

The next day, Louis goes to visit Zayn. After all, who better to seek advice about soulmates from than someone in a successful soulmate relationship? Niall and Liam are both broken records at this point, repeatedly telling him that he needs to hurry up at tell Harry the truth. They aren’t wrong, but Louis would like to get another perspective before he makes any life-changing decisions.

“I’m mad at you,” Zayn says when he answers the door.

And right, Louis had forgotten that last text from Zayn that he left unanswered.

“I’m here to apologize,” Louis lies from the other side of the doorway, holding his palms up upwards in what he hopes is an inviting gesture.

“I’m not hugging you,” Zayn says, raising an eyebrow at Louis’ outstretched arms, “and no, you’re not.”

“Okay, fine,” Louis says, dropping his hands back to his sides and sighing, “that’s not why I’m here. But I am sorry for going behind your back and involving Niall in illegal activities.”

“You’d better be,” Zayn says, stepping backwards to make space for Louis to enter his flat. “And it had better _never_ happen again.”

Louis thinks about Niall serving as a lookout during each session in which he illegally removes Liam’s soulmate tattoo. He gulps.

“Alright, Lou, come on in,” Zayn says, leading him into the flat and towards the kitchen. “Want anything to drink? Smoke?”

“I have never, ever had weed, not even once in my life,” Louis says as he follows Zayn inside. “And I most definitely did not try selling weed in high school.”

Zayn turns to him, a bemused smile on his face.

“Seriously,” Louis says, widening his eyes in what he hopes is an innocent and earnest look. “I don’t even know what weed looks like. Or how to…roll it? Crush it? I don’t even know what you do with it.”

“Louis,” Zayn says, laughing softly, “You know I didn’t even mention weed, right? Is this because I’m a cop?”

Louis opens his mouth, then closes it again wordlessly. “Huh.”

“Besides, we’re friends and I’m off duty. Relax,” Zayn tells him, smiling. “Though what I meant was to offer you a cigarette. Want one?”

“That’ll kill you, someday.”

“Won’t everything?”

Zayn disappears into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two beers and zero cigarettes.

Louis gives him a nod of approval, taking one of the bottles.

Zayn’s apartment is not what Louis would have expected. It looks like a model home constructed of sample rooms from IKEA, not an actual place that someone lives in. There’s no trace of life – no dishes piled in the sink, no jackets hung on the back of chairs, no rumpled blankets on the couch. It’s artfully put together, all of the furniture made of matching dark wood and the walls decorated with graffiti canvas art.

Louis didn’t know it was possible for any man in his 20’s to live so neatly. And to have _art_.

“You like it?” Zayn asks, nodding towards the canvas that Louis is admiring. “I made it.”

It’s not modest by any means, but then again, Louis doesn’t see why he should be. It looks incredible.

“That’s awesome, Zayn,” he says, shaking his head and taking a sip of his beer. “Your place is really nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m not just saying that either. It’s _really_ nice. Like, you’d be my flatmate’s dream flatmate.”

“I thought you two got along?”

“Oh, we do,” Louis assures him. “He’s my best mate. We just have pretty different standards of what’s messy and what’s not.”

“I see,” Zayn looks amused. “Anyways, come on out to the balcony and then you can tell me why you’re really here.”

Louis follows Zayn through a sliding glass door onto his balcony. It’s less impressive than the inside of his flat, probably because they are only on the second floor. They’ve got a spectacular view of the off-white wall of the next building, the alleyway between them, and not much else. Louis likes it, though. It makes Zayn’s place - and by extension, Zayn - seem less intimidating.

Louis squares his shoulders. “I came to ask you for advice on soulmates.”

“Me?” Zayn raises an eyebrow. “You know the entirety of my story with Niall. Hell, you were the catalyst who made that story come to life.”

“Hypothetical advice, then,” Louis amends.

“Well, I’ll do my best, I guess,” Zayn takes a sip of beer, looking thoughtful. “What’s the scenario?”

“Let’s say you’ve met your soulmate – Niall – but he didn’t want to be with you,” Louis says, “What would you do to convince him otherwise?”

“Try to woo him, I guess,” Zayn says. Then he pauses, frowning. “Wait. You really met your soulmate, told them they were your soulmate, and they didn’t immediately want to at least give you a shot?”

“_Hypothetically_,” Louis emphasizes.

Zayn raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“Alright, fine. I might not have told them yet,” Louis admits. Before Zayn can cut in, Louis continues, “but I _know_ they won’t want to.”

“How can you know that?” Zayn asks. When Louis doesn’t answer, he asks instead, “What do they want then, if it’s not to meet their soulmate?”

_Romance,_ Louis thinks to himself. And then, he realizes what he needs to do.

Louis will just have to make the grandest romantic gesture of all time. In the midst of his grand romantic gesture, he can tell Harry that they are soulmates and ask him for a chance to prove that there could be something between them.

“Aren’t you and Harry dating?” Zayn continues, unaware of Louis’ revelation. “I feel like the first thing your soulmate would want is for you to not be dating another man.”

“You,” Louis says, before lifting his beer up and chugging the rest of it. He sets the bottle down a little more harshly than necessary, turning to Zayn with what feels like a crazed expression in his eyes. “Are absolutely right.”

“All I said was to not be dating someone el-”

“Thank you, Zaynie,” Louis interrupts, smacking a kiss to Zayn’s cheek and turning towards the door.

He makes it all the way through Zayn’s apartment before he hears the other man call out, “You’d better not be driving home!”

Louis sighs. Right. Zayn is a cop.

“It was one beer,” Louis whines, but retreats back towards the balcony.

“Make it two and sleep on the couch, then,” Zayn calls back easily.

“Three,” Louis counters, trotting into Zayn’s kitchen and swinging open the fridge. It’s as pristine as Louis thinks a fridge can be. There are no spills and no forgotten foods that have been shoved to the back, just clean plastic shelves sparkling under the bright white light. “Jesus,” Louis mutters under his breath, “how does he live?”

Three drinks later for Louis and one cigarette later for Zayn, they decide to call it a night. Zayn’s apartment is not very well equipped for guests, but after some rummaging in his room Zayn returns with a spare travel toothbrush, a clean towel, and an old blanket.

Louis lays down, pulling the worn blanket up to his chin. Unfortunately, it turns out that the downside to having perfectly matching furniture is that it’s not all necessarily as comfortable as it could be. Zayn’s couch, in particular, is harder than any piece of furniture calling itself a couch should be.

“It’s a futon, actually,” Zayn tells him when he voices this complaint aloud.

“It’s a _rock_,” Louis grumbles.

He vows to not drink at Zayn’s place ever again.

-

When Louis walks into their apartment the next morning, he finds Liam sitting at their kitchen table with his head in his hands and a worried frown on his face. Yesterday’s newspaper is spread open in front of him and apparently taking up all of his attention, a bowl of cereal next to him having surpassed the stage of being soggy and now looking like total mush.

“Louis,” Liam says, sounding exasperated, “what exactly is so hard about laying low?”

“Um,” Louis blinks.

Liam flips his newspaper to the front page aggressively, causing the paper to crinkle loudly in protest. He reads aloud exaggeratedly, “Exclusive! Insider information about Louis Tomlinson, soulmate conspiracy leader. Page five.”

“Soulmate conspiracy _leader_?” Louis splutters.

“The article itself takes up nearly the whole page,” Liam flips back to what Louis presumes is page five. “The ad about the article made the _front page_.”

“Wait, is this the _Daily Chronicle_?” Louis asks, the pieces starting to fit together. “That fucker, do you remember him? I think he said his name was Nick. He came to our apartment, remember? The morning after I got caught in City Hall.”

“Yeah, it is. Says the article is written by a Nicholas Grimshaw,” Liam says. “Well that explains why he was able to correctly write about what type of shampoo we use.”

“Why would he write about _that_?” Louis asks.

“To fill space, maybe. To be able to honestly call it exclusive insider information, more like. Garbage journalism,” Liam grumbles. “There’s honestly quite a lot of detail about our bathroom.” Then he pauses, eyes skimming across the page in front of him. “Well, at least he mentions your tattoo parlor.”

Louis grimaces. “I guess.”

“But if anyone finds out about my tattoo removal now…” Liam sets down the paper with a heavy sigh, trailing off.

“They’ll know it’s me,” Louis finishes for him, swallowing hard.

“You live with me, you own a tattoo parlor, and you’re apparently a known soulmate conspiracy theorist,” Liam lists, shaking his head. “Any jury would be stupid not to convict you on the spot.”

Louis tries not to let himself get too carried away on that train of thought. There are only negatives down that road. Liam is absolutely right: if they ever end up in the situation where Louis is put in front of a jury, that will be the end.

“Well,” Louis says weakly, “hardly anyone is going to read this anyways, right?”

Liam looks doubtful. He takes a bite of cereal absently, then gags and spits it back out. “Gross.”

Louis sighs.

-

Zayn is leaving the tattoo parlor as Louis pulls up to park in front, probably having just stopped in to visit Niall. Actually - as Louis takes a closer look at his friend, lips swollen red and a mark on his neck that Louis swears was not there the night before - Zayn definitely just stopped in to visit Niall. Louis would normally tease him a bit, but right now there is a more pressing issue at hand.

His usual parking spot is taken, as are all of the other spots in the lot.

“Hey, Louis!” Zayn calls out, the shit-eating grin on his face distracting Louis from the phenomenon that is the lack of parking in his usually empty lot.

“Hey, Zayn. What’s up?”

“Saw the article,” Zayn grins. “Women’s deodorant, eh? Does that work better?”

“Oh my god,” Louis groans. He bangs his head against his steering wheel, accidentally causing a small toot of the horn. “I like the way it smells, alright? Fuck off.”

Zayn throws his head back in a laugh, waving goodbye as he hops into his own car.

Louis pulls into the spot Zayn just vacated with one hand on the steering wheel and the other held up in the air, flipping Zayn off. “Garbage journalism,” he mutters, mentally cursing Nick fucking Grimshaw and the rest of the _Daily Chronicle_ staff.

When he gets inside, the tattoo parlor is as full as Louis has ever seen it at 10:05AM on any day, ever. There is a long line to speak with Niall, and the chairs in the waiting room are almost entirely taken.

“Are you Louis?” a woman asks as he tries to make his way around the crowd. “Two in one shampoo really doesn’t work as a conditioner, hon. You’d be better off buying two separate products.”

Louis grinds his teeth together. Garbage journalism.

“Louis!” Niall calls, saving him from having to respond. “We’re completely overbooked already, and we only just opened five minutes ago. I need you to start getting people back there if you can.”

“Niall, this is insane,” Louis whispers, motioning to the crowd in the room. The girl at the front of the line smiles at him, braces glimmering under the artificial light.

“Yeah, well, there was that article in the paper,” Niall shrugs. “You know what they say, there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Speaking of, it said you use deodorant soap – does that work?”

Louis huffs, rolling his eyes. “I wouldn’t know. That’s _Liam’s_.”

“Oh.”

“Give me that,” Louis snags the paper from where it’s sitting open on their main desk. “This is all bullshit.”

“So you don’t have an at-home waxing kit?”

“Well, most of it is bullshit,” Louis amends, “and the rest of it is none of your damn business.”

“Didn’t you interview for this?” Niall asks. “They talk about the parlor a bit.”

“No, I didn’t,” Louis grouses. “Nick fucking Grimshaw spoke with me for less than five minutes, used my bathroom, and that’s it.”

“No wonder there’s so much detail about your toiletries,” Niall muses. Then, “So you _do_ have an at-home waxing kit.”

Louis groans, crumpling the newspaper up and dropping it into the recycling bin. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, then calls the first customer of the day to the back room.

-

“Coffee?”

Louis looks up from where he is fumbling with his keys to lock up the tattoo parlor. Today has been the busiest day the parlor has ever had, even counting the day after the grand opening party. He hadn’t had time for a lunch break, and certainly not a coffee break.

Harry is leaning against the wall outside the building, holding out a cup of coffee and smiling. “Just milk, no sugar.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Louis finally gets the correct key to fit into the lock, twisting it roughly before turning to face Harry. “We closed a while ago. Niall bolted at 5 sharp.”

Harry shrugs, holding out the cup insistently. “It’s still hot, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Louis smiles softly. “No, that’s not what I’m asking. But thank you. I just mean that you should have come in, instead of waiting out here for who knows how long.”

Harry shrugs again. “You’ve got to go home eventually.”

“I suppose,” Louis says, gratefully accepting the cup of caffeine.

“It’s decaf,” Harry deadpans.

“No, it’s not,” Louis says.

Harry grins. “No, it’s not.”

Louis takes a blissful sip, feeling the tension from the day slip away from his body. “What brings you here? Just delivering me some coffee?”

“I came by at lunch, actually,” Harry says, “but it looked swamped, so I figured I’d come back later.”

“That’s…” Louis swallows, touched. “That’s really nice of you.”

“Ah, well,” Harry shrugs, “I know Mitch sparked our quest to prove soulmates were fake so that we wouldn’t need to keep dating, but I actually quite like seeing you.”

“Yeah?” Louis smiles. “I quite like seeing you, too.”

“Got any dinner plans then? Let me take you out.” Harry looks at Louis eagerly, a charming smile on his face. Then, as Louis hesitates, his face twists thoughtfully and snaps his fingers. “Or, better yet, we’ll stay in. Pizza at yours? I’ll buy.”

Louis laughs, grateful. “As long as you’re not one of those pineapple lovers.”

Harry gasps, feigning offense. “You don’t like pineapple on pizza?”

“’Course not. You do?”

“Nah, just messing with you.”

“Good,” Louis unlocks his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. “What are you waiting for, Styles? Hop in!”

-

“Combination.” There’s a firm set to Harry’s jaw, an intensity that Louis doesn’t recognize etched into his face. “Then we’ll get both vegetables and meat.”

Louis stifles a laugh at Harry’s seriousness. “It’s _pizza_. We’re not trying to be healthy. Let’s get the one with the pepperoni and sausage and shit.”

“But the veggies add a lot of flavor,” Harry argues. “Onions, olives, tomatoes…don’t you want that?”

“Not really.”

“Please?”

Louis tries to resist, but it’s been a lost cause since the beginning. Harry brought him coffee after his busy day – just the way he likes it, no less – and is now treating him to a greasy night in despite his clear preference for going out on a real date tonight. And to top it off, Harry is pouting, his lower lip pushed out and his eyebrows slanted downwards pleadingly. As if Louis and his meat pizza stood a chance.

“Fine,” Louis concedes, “but normal vegetables only. If you add any so-called superfoods onto this pizza, we’re calling the whole night off.”

“Kale on pizza is actually really delic-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Are y’all ready to order?” the boy at the counter chirps, a too-wide smile spread across his freckled face.

Harry orders and pays for the pizza, asking for extra marinara sauce on the side, and the cashier tells him it will be ready in fifteen minutes.

“Want to take a walk?” Harry asks, motioning towards the door with his left hand.

It only takes Louis a brief glance at the waiting area – three metal folding chairs lined too close together, one of which is occupied by a man twice his size – to agree.

The perk of living in a small town is that pretty much anywhere you are is a good location for an idyllic walk. The downside is that pretty much anywhere you are, you will run into someone you know. Louis rediscovers both of these facts in quick succession.

Only a block away from the pizza place, they find a small park. It’s cute and not particularly crowded, perfect for a quick stroll around while they wait.

Harry lets out a small satisfied sigh. “Nice out right now. A bit chilly though, don’t you think?”

“A bit,” Louis agrees, giving Harry a sidelong glance.

Harry’s left dimple deepens and he reaches an arm around Louis, apparently under the pretenses of keeping him warm against the cool evening air.

“Oh, that was a line, was it?” Louis asks, laughing but willingly leaning into Harry’s side.

“A bit,” Harry says, echoing Louis’ response from before.

“Cheeky fucker,” Louis mutters, the words noticeably softened by his fondness.

“You like it,” Harry says confidently.

Louis shrugs, ducking his head to hide a smile.

After walking for a while, they come across a small bridge with a wooden gazebo constructed around it. It would be picturesque if there were more signs of nature nearby – a small creek under the bridge with ducks, grass and flowers around the gazebo, etc. – but as it is, there is nothing but dry dirt all around.

“Maybe the water dried up,” Harry says, peering over the railing.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “It doesn’t even get that hot here.”

“It can get hot in summer.”

“Sure, in summer. But it’s November.”

“Maybe it froze.”

“Then there would be _ice_, Harold.”

“You think it’s just like this? That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, well-”

“Louis? Is that you, dear?” a sweet, elderly voice calls out.

Louis whips around, Harry following the motion a moment later.

An old woman is studying him over the wiry frame of her glasses, all narrowed eyes and pursed lips. A beat later, her face brightens into a pleased smile. “I thought that was you!”

“Erm…yes,” Louis says slowly, his brain scrambling to catch up. She certainly looks familiar, and it’s not like he knows many grandmotherly women outside of his own grandma and her board game club.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says enthusiastically. She pauses to wrap her thick coat more warmly around her body before extending a hand to Harry. “I’m Mrs. Ackerman. But you,” she pauses to give him a wink, “can call me Marge.”

“Harry,” Harry replies politely, stepping forwards to gently shake her hand.

“Oh god,” Louis can’t help but mutter under his breath. A strange old lady that he is supposed to know is now blatantly flirting with his soulmate. What a day.

“Louis dear, I haven’t seen you nearly as often as I expected to,” she says, looking genuinely disappointed.

Harry steps back, wrapping an arm around Louis again and leaning in to whisper, “Is this your gran?”

“Er, no,” Louis says to Harry. Then, eloquent as always, to Mrs. Ackerman, “Um, work. You know? Busy.”

“Well with you writing a book and all, I don’t understand how you’ve managed to stay away,” Mrs. Ackerman continues, a kind smile crinkling her eyes.

“Writing a-?” Louis starts, and then it clicks. “_Mrs. Ackerman_. From the library. Yes, right, of course. Of course!”

Louis had forgotten about that night before Liam’s first session, when he had gone to the library out of fear of his taboo searches tainting his personal laptop’s search history or being traceable in some way by the police in the future. She was the librarian who had been so overly invested in helping him that he’d lied about writing a book in order to avoid her suspicion and judgment.

Mrs. Ackerman smiles indulgently, not seeming bothered that he hadn’t recognized her. “Most people who research for a budding book in my library come back again and again. It’s as if they’re possessed!”

“I uh,” Louis presses his lips together, shaking his head slowly as he tries to think of a suitable excuse. “Writers block. Hit me hard. Haven’t overcome it still.”

“Oh, I hear that all the time,” Mrs. Ackerman waves her hand dismissively. “Come ‘round next time anyways for a cup of tea and we can chat about it. I’ve helped many a writer get through their blocks, you know. Some of the greats, even. I’ll tell you all about them next time.”

“I will,” Louis says, making a mental note to swing by. Louis isn’t sure whether it’s because she reminds him of his gran or because it seems like she just wants someone to talk to, but he finds himself actually looking forward to visiting.

“You’d better,” Mrs. Ackerman says, somewhat teasingly, before giving them both a small wave. “Thanks for chatting with me, loves. Don’t be strangers, alright?”

They call out their goodbyes before beginning to walk back in the direction of the pizza parlor.

“So, what was that about?” Harry asks once Mrs. Ackerman is far out of earshot, looking amused. “Thought you’d forgotten your own grandmother for a minute there.”

“No!” Louis laughs, rushing to defend himself. “No, I could never.”

“You’re just full of surprises though, aren’t you?” Harry asks, a curious smile on his face. “A budding writer, huh? I never would have guessed.”

“Well about that,” Louis shrugs, “sorry to disappoint, but I’m not actually a writer.”

Harry raises his eyebrows in interest.

“I may have told Mrs. Ackerman that to throw her off my trail when I was frantically googling some…certain things before Liam’s first session,” Louis explains in a low voice.

“I see,” Harry says, letting out a short laugh before saying mournfully, “Oh, Louis, but she’s so excited for your book.”

“Well if it ever got written, it certainly would have been the heart-wrenching rom-com of the year, that’s for sure,” Louis jokes.

“Yeah?” Harry asks, chuckling. “What’s it about?”

“Well,” Louis pauses, trying to find an answer that’s truthful, “Us. It’s about us.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together thoughtfully, and a moment later a small smile appears on his face.

Louis takes that as a good sign and grabs his hand to tug him along to the pizza parlor before he can probe any more.

-

Pizza box in hand, Louis turns the key to his apartment and gives the door a hefty shove to get it open, waving his free arm around in what was meant to be a flourish, but probably falls far short. “Welcome to my humble abode, Harold.” Then, in a yell, “Liam, I’m home!”

No answer comes from within the flat, so Liam must be out somewhere.

Louis turns to Harry, fully expecting him to comment on their apartment. It’s not that he wanted to hear empty words about how nice his place is, just that Harry has been polite to a fault the entire time Louis has known him.

As such, it comes as a total surprise when Harry’s first comment is, “Jesus Christ, Lou, it’s fucking freezing in here.”

“What?”

Harry turns to Louis, eyes bugged out as if he can’t believe Louis lives like this. “Do you have the A.C. on? It’s _November_.”

“Oh,” Louis blinks. “We, uh, like it cold, I guess.”

In truth, he and Liam have been layering up with long sleeves to cover up – Liam to hide his fading feather and Louis to conceal his compass. It makes it easy to feel too hot if the heat is on indoors, so they’ve been keeping it cold in the apartment despite the weather at this time of year.

“I’d make an innuendo about how we could warm up, but honestly I don’t even know if that’s enough,” Harry says, setting down the pizza in favor of rubbing his upper arms exaggeratedly.

Louis laughs, bumping Harry’s hip with his own. “Go sit on the couch under the blanket, then. I’ll get us some plates and turn up the temperature in here a bit.”

Harry nods, making it to the couch in record time. Once he’s curled up under Liam’s favorite fuzzy throw blanket, he calls out, “Your flat is really nice, by the way.”

Louis laughs.

-

If you asked Louis to describe what happens on a night in which he gets laid, he might tell you about going out dancing, or for drinks at a bar, or even one time at an Italian restaurant where he and someone else had both been stood up and so they left together.

Eating greasy pizza and binge-watching Queer Eye would not make the list.

And yet, somehow, it works.

It’s much later that night, when the leftover pizza has long since gone cold in front of them. He and Harry are cuddled on the couch, Harry with the blanket pulled up to his chin and Louis with his arms around him.

“Who’s your favorite?” Harry asks, voice barely above a whisper.

“Tan and I are both from Doncaster,” Louis answers, “so I’ve got to say it’s him. It’s an obligation, really. Who’s yours?”

“Karamo, I think,” Harry says, “though his scenes make me get teary sometimes.”

“Every time,” Louis teases, thinking of how he’d had to pass Harry the stack of extra napkins earlier.

Harry tilts his head up to stick his tongue out at Louis, and it’s in that moment that Louis realizes just how close they are. It’s a silly observation, especially since they’ve nearly become one person in their cuddle, but for some reason Harry facing him makes it more acute.

Harry stays in that position for longer than Louis expected him to, his eyes locked on Louis’ own. Louis wonders absently if there was ever someone who could gaze into the eyes of their soulmate and not want more. Someone stronger than him, perhaps.

He can’t help himself. He leans in, made slow by nerves and the desire to gauge Harry’s reaction, and gently presses their lips together. Harry seems to be waiting for the kiss with bated breath, but once their lips touch, he relaxes into it, twisting so that he is sitting sideways in Louis’ lap for a better angle. His lips move against Louis’ tenderly, his hand making its way up to cup Louis’ cheek. It’s sweet, but somehow also heated, fueled with a passion that Louis didn’t even know he felt.

Louis can’t believe that no one has told him about this, what kissing your soulmate is like. It’s different than any other kiss Louis has experienced, overwhelming his senses completely.

It’s electric, a zip of heat coursing from the point at which their lips touch throughout Louis’ entire body. It’s magnetic, as if now that their lips have touched, they will always be pulled back together again. It’s harmonic, a synchrony in their movements, in even their heartbeats, that should be impossible for a first kiss between friends. It’s a sign that they are meant to be.

Louis doesn’t know how Harry doesn’t feel it.

“Wow,” Harry breathes as they pull apart slightly for air.

Louis searches Harry’s face, desperate for some indication that he knows now, that he has figured out that they are soulmates, but all he finds is a familiar fond smile.

Louis’ heart is pounding, his chest bubbling up with a feeling that he doesn’t dare name. It seems dangerous for their current situation to let this go further. It would be reckless to continue, to let this become something more. The responsible thing to do would be to leave it at that, to stop and maybe have a serious conversation regarding their soulmate tattoos.

But Louis has never been known to choose the responsible route.

What started as a sweet kiss quickly turns into something far less chaste. Harry lifts his leg over Louis to straddle him and nips softly at his lower lip, to which Louis parts his lips willingly. Harry kisses him deliberately, deeply, causing a searing heat between them which Louis’ can’t attribute entirely to being soulmates.

Harry kisses along his jaw, whispering into the space between them, “Can’t believe we haven’t done this before.”

Louis makes a noise in agreement, ducking his head to press kisses along Harry’s neck towards his collarbone, where he pauses to suck a mark.

Harry groans out Louis’ name, grinding down once onto his lap before lifting himself up enough to tug Louis out of his sitting position. Once he has Louis’ laying on the couch, Harry drapes his body over him and reconnects their lips, murmuring “Why haven’t we done this before?”

Louis hums against Harry’s lips, thoughtful. “Well, not kissing on the first date isn’t that unusual,” Louis reasons, “and our second date was a literal heist that landed us in jail.”

“Shh,” Harry hushes Louis, pulling back to give him a look. “These are not sexy thoughts.”

Louis laughs a little at that. It’s true, yet his dick is hard enough to make a convincing counterargument. “And?”

“And you should be thinking sexy thoughts,” Harry says like it’s obvious, running his hand down Louis’ side to punctuate his statement with a gentle palming over the crotch of his pants.

“Ah,” Louis says, a little breathier than he would like, “okay. I’m down for that.”

“You’re _down_?” Harry asks.

“Yes,” Louis hisses, feeling himself harden even more as Harry unbuttons his jeans and slides down the zipper.

“You know what I’m down on?” The smirk on Harry’s face is one that Louis knows well. The feeling of Harry’s hand on his dick as he pulls it out of his pants might be new, but there is nothing unfamiliar about the telltale quirk of his lips right now.

“_No_, Harry, please no puns I can’t-”

“Down on your dick.”

“Harry-”

“Get it? Cuz I’m about to go down on your dick.”

“Yes, I _get it_, Harry ah-”

And then sure enough, Harry is, for lack of better words, down on Louis’ dick. He pauses to lick the head sensually before taking it all in one go, wrapping his lips near the base and letting the back of his throat nudge against the tip.

“You did not,” Louis gasps, simultaneously exasperated and turned on, “just make that pun.”

If Harry could give a Cheshire cat grin with a dick in his mouth, he certainly would. As it is, his eyes crinkle smugly and he begins to move himself up and then back down, running his tongue along the underside.

Louis still has complaints to voice about puns in bed, but that no longer seems like a priority, not when Harry is working his cock in his mouth with such enthusiasm.

Louis has decidedly not thought about what this would be like, has done his best to avoid letting his mind wander to Harry when getting off. Now that he’s experiencing it, though, he knows there’s no going back.

Harry’s normally bright green eyes are now darkened with lust, his pupils dilated with attraction and fixated solely on Louis. The sight of Harry like that, red lips stretched around Louis’ cock and dark eyes locked on Louis’ own, is more obscene than it has any right to be.

Louis knew this would feel good – surely sex with your soulmate nears the top of the ranks of feelings in one’s lifetime – and yet he is somehow entirely unprepared for just how good it actually is.

Harry looks up at him, making eye contact as he moves Louis’ hand and places it so that Louis’ fingers are in his hair. There is a look in his eyes that Louis can’t quite identify, but it leaves him feeling more wanted than he has ever felt in his life.

The fact that the person who wants him so badly is his unknowing soulmate is nearly too much to handle.

Louis tightens his grip on Harry’s hair with one hand while gently stroking his cheek with the other. Harry makes a pleased sound at that, though it’s somewhat garbled by Louis’ cock in his mouth. His fingers dig into Louis’ hips, a fiery touch that leaves Louis aching for more. He ramps up the pace, and the feeling of it has Louis keening into his mouth, struggling to keep himself from thrusting his hips upwards, not wanting to be too rough.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind, and in fact seems to enjoy it, doubling down and letting his eyes fall shut in desire. The feeling is incredible, the pressure of pleasure building up inside of him until it’s too much to bear. He gasps out a quick warning to Harry, who pays it no mind, before his orgasm overtakes him.

Harry sucks one final time, licking the tip of Louis’ oversensitive dick to clean him off before scooting back up to lay next to Louis on the couch. He looks pleased, yet predatory, as if now that he’s had a taste, he has become impossible to satiate.

Louis is out of breath, as if he spent the last fifteen minutes sprinting rather than laying down on the couch. And still, all he wants is more. “Oh, Harry.”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes, though at first Louis isn’t sure what for, “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Rude?” Louis asks incredulously, pressing a kiss to Harry’s lips. “How on earth have you been rude?

“I didn’t mean to take us from first kiss to blowjob quite so quickly. I promise I’m normally much more chivalrous,” Harry says sheepishly.

Louis can’t help but laugh, saying with a smile, “I don’t mind at all. We can move as fast or slow as you like, love.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, the sweet smile on his lips contrasting starkly with the severe tenting of his pants.

Louis smiles, reaching down to rub over Harry’s dick. “Of course. And in fact, I think the one who’s being rude right now is me. Mind if I return the favor?”

Harry laughs before kissing Louis by way of answer, shimmying to get his tight jeans down his waist so Louis has better access.

Louis had been able to see it before, bulging against Harry’s black skinny jeans, but seeing Harry’s cock out in its full glory is truly something else. He reaches out nearly reverently, taking the base in one hand and his balls in the other.

“You’re so big,” Louis comments as he begins to jack Harry off. It’s not a compliment, just a fact.

“Thank you,” Harry says anyways.

It’s a bit dry, so Louis leans over to suck his dick into his mouth, making it deliberately wet as he bobs his head up and down. Harry groans, deep and guttural, and so Louis continues longer than he meant to, taking as much of Harry’s dick into his mouth as he can as he moves up and down, following the motion with his hand. He alternates between just his hand and the combination of mouth and hand, setting a fairly quick pace which he is pleased to notice has Harry gripping at the couch cushions so hard that his knuckles turn white.

“Don’t stop,” Harry tells him, nearly pleading. “Keep doing that.”

Louis doesn’t exactly listen, choosing instead to relax his muscles and deepthroat Harry’s cock. Harry makes a sound halfway between a moan and a gasp, babbling something incoherent in response. Not long afterwards, his hips stutter upwards, accompanied by a shout, cum shooting down Louis’ throat, and then a hasty apology.

They lay together in silence for a bit, sweaty but cuddled close regardless. It’s nice, and in that moment, Louis feels closer to Harry than ever before. Louis wonders if that means it’s a good time to have the conversation about soulmates.

Before he can make a final decision on that point, Harry says, “Lou, we need to talk about us dating.”

Louis feels himself stiffen in Harry’s arms. _He knows_, Louis thinks to himself. Of course he knows, his own body’s reaction to their physical touch has surely given it away. “Yeah?” Louis asks, not daring to turn to see what expression is on Harry’s face.

Harry laughs, and the atmosphere lightens even before he continues, although Louis doesn’t understand why. “I mean, you don’t really think we’ve only been on two dates, do you?”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand, a mixture of relief and disappointment pooling in his stomach. He forces a laugh. “I guess we’ll just have to go on more dates then.”

He can’t see Harry’s smile in response, but he knows that it’s there. “I guess so,” Harry says, the words almost certainly accompanied by a soft smile.

Harry’s breathing evens out not long after that, signifying the end of any potential conversations they could have had. His choice made for him, Louis tries to quiet his thoughts and let himself savor being in his soulmate’s arms.

Still, it’s a long while before he finally falls asleep.


	6. suck dick... get hit?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which louis gets in a fight, niall is a really good friend, and liam is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to [lorina](http://www.harryeatsburger.tumblr.com) for helping check over scenes I wasn't sure about and letting me yell excitedly about how in this chapter, everything goes to shit.
> 
> Usually editing consists of mostly grammar checking, but this round consisted of adding entire new scenes and conversations, so apologies for the delay. In advance, I've got finals coming up so I might leave you on this cruel cliffy for a little longer than I ought to, but the next update is already halfway written so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait! As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. xx

Louis wakes up the next morning with a sticky note on his head. It’s an apology from Harry, thanking him for last night and promising to cook him breakfast next time.

Louis smiles, allowing the words “next time” to echo in his brain, feeling a small rush as he reads them over again. It reminds him of their first date, when Harry had told him to get the noodle soup _next time_. He hopes it means something.

Liam still isn’t home, which is a bit worrisome. Louis can’t think of anywhere he would be other than at Derrick’s place. Usually when he stays over at Derrick’s, he lets Louis know ahead of time and is back the next morning (with various new injuries). But on this particular morning, there is no sign of him.

Louis gives his cell phone a call while he’s eating his cereal, again as he’s walking to his car, and then again once he’s arrived at work. No answer.

[To: Liam Payne 9:54 AM]

give me a call back as soon as you can. it’s important!!!!

It’s vague enough to not set off any alarm bells with Derrick, yet with enough urgency that hopefully Liam will be able justify coming to “help” Louis if he needs to get away for his own safety.

Louis sighs, pushing open the door to the parlor and calling out a hello to Niall.

Niall’s head pops up from where he was hunched over the reception desk, thick-rimmed glasses askew on his face. Instead of returning the greeting, he says, “Louis, you’re in the paper again.”

Louis’ eyebrows fly up. “I haven’t spoken to or seen Nick fucking Grimshaw since last time,” he complains. “There’s no way he has new content. Especially since he detailed literally my entire bathroom last week.”

Niall doesn’t reply, an uncharacteristically somber look on his face.

Louis takes the paper he is holding out, frowning in confusion as he reads the page. “Goat accused of robbery. What does that have to do with me?”

Niall shakes his head, making a quick circular motion with his hand. “Sorry, sorry, flip it over.”

Louis does so, eyes flitting over the page for a moment before he sees the headline.

“Anti-Soulmate Movement has Found its Leaders,” Louis reads the correct title, feeling his stomach begin to tie itself into knots. “You’re saying this article is about me? Why on earth would I be named as an Anti-Soulmate Movement leader? Hell, I shouldn’t even be considered a member.”

“This is the continued article,” Niall tells him, sounding resigned. “Look at the front page.”

Louis glances up worriedly at Niall before flipping the paper sharply. In the center of the front page, there is a photo of him and Harry from yesterday, walking together in the park. “Oh, fuck.”

“There we go,” Niall says, grimacing.

“I got paparazzied? I’m not even famous. Is that legal?”

“Apparently so.”

Louis shakes his head in disbelief, reading aloud, “Louis Tomlinson, mastermind of the anti-soulmate City Hall break-in, has been seen associating with Harry Styles, known anti-soulmate conspirator.” He skims through the article furiously, reading aloud whenever he is particularly angry about a phrase. “They are seen here, scheming together and comparing notes. Together the two are the most prominent anti-soulmate figures in the city at this time. What the fuck?”

The phone rings just then, cutting him off before he can launch into a full rant.

“Tommo’s Tattoos, how can I help you?” Niall quickly answers. “Well, ma’am, I can assure you that is not the case. We really-” Niall winces in pain and stops talking, holding the phone a good distance away from his ear.

A shrill voice is yelling on the other end of the line, the words indecipherable but the intention clear.

There is a bang, which sounds like the phone being slammed down, and Niall tentatively brings the phone back to his face. “Ma’am, are you still there?”

She’s not.

Niall hangs up the phone, making a face.

“Angry customer?” Louis asks, his attention sufficiently drawn away from the article for the moment.

Niall nods, using his fingers to form air quotes as he says, “She wanted to be sure we knew that she refuses to do business with ‘folks like us’.”

“Folks who don’t believe in soulmates, I assume?” Louis asks, clipped.

Niall nods.

“Fuck,” Louis mutters angrily, “We just went out for pizza, I swear. We weren’t ‘scheming,’ we were on _a date_.”

Niall looks sympathetic. “I know, Lou.”

Louis tugs at his hair in frustration. “We didn’t even talk about soulmates the entire night.”

“Well,” Niall says, a thoughtful expression on his face, “maybe you should have.”

“What?”

“Talked about soulmates, I mean. You have to tell him soon, Lou.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Communication and all that.”

“The press is already starting after you. What if they find out that he’s your soulmate and publish it?” Niall pauses to let the words sink in. “He can’t find out that way, Louis. You have to tell him first.”

Louis sighs. He knows Niall is right, and yet he doesn’t want to ruin what he and Harry currently have just yet.

Niall correctly interprets his silence as denial and continues to drive his point home. “He might not react badly. You don’t know that for sure. Maybe since you’ve been dating, he’ll be excited to know that you’re the one.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“It’s possible.”

Louis sighs, trying to keep his mind from spiraling. What if he tells Harry, and he loses him? Surely it’s better to try and make this last as long as he can for now. But at least if he tells Harry, there’s a small chance of forgiveness. If Harry finds out from Nick fucking Grimshaw, there will be no hope for redemption.

“Hey,” Niall says gently, the words kindly interrupting Louis’ runaway train of thought. “I can hear you overthinking from here. You need a break from all of this soulmate shit. Let’s do our jobs, get through the day, and tonight we’ll go out to Buried Jewel. I dunno who’s playing tonight, but surely it will be good. We’ll listen to some music, drink, and forget all about soulmates. Just for tonight.”

“Thanks, Niall.” Louis can’t fight the small smile that creeps onto his face at that. “You’re a good friend. That sounds really nice.”

“Good,” Niall says, clapping his back cheerfully. “It’s a plan, then.”

And of course, like most good plans, it completely goes to shit.

-

Later that day, just as they are about to close, Niall calls out from the front, “Lou, your credit card keeps getting declined.”

Louis pauses his end-of-the-day routine, leaning the broom he is holding against the wall and walking over to the front desk. “It is? What are you buying?”

“Just printer ink.”

“Use yours for now and I’ll reimburse you,” Louis tells him, flipping his card over to look for the customer service number to call.

Immediately after he dials, an automated voice puts him on hold. Louis puts the call on speaker and blasts elevator music throughout the shop as they finish cleaning up. He is still on hold ten minutes later, as Niall packs up his bag and heads out, calling out that he’ll see him at the pub at seven o’clock sharp and warning him that he’d better not be late.

He is still on hold five minutes after that, when someone tries to open the door – Niall had locked it when they closed – and then knocks against the glass.

Louis had been laying on the front desk, counting down for the twenty minute mark at which point he was going to hang up on his bank. He sits up in surprise, a smile coming to his face as he sees Harry standing outside, knuckles still raised by the door, poised to knock again.

Just as he is about to let Harry in, the elevator music cuts out and a friendly voice says politely, “Hi, thank you for holding. My name is Adrianna. How may I help you today?”

Louis nearly drops his credit card and his keys in his excitement, fumbling as he multitasks in rattling off his credit card number to Adrianna while letting Harry in.

“Here we go,” Adrianna says from Louis’ phone after a moment. “It seems you have a number of suspicious purchases from two days ago, so we put a hold on your account. If you review the flagged items and confirm them, we can get your account cleared.”

“My bank,” Louis explains in a whisper. “Give me just a mo’ to get this sorted?”

Harry presses a kiss to the top of his head and makes a shooing motion with his hands, as if to say ‘yes, go do it already!’ before taking a seat.

“Er, yes, sure. I can do that,” Louis says to Adrianna, who is still on speaker.

Louis tries to think back to two days ago, wondering what he could have bought.

A slow, sinking feeling fills his stomach as he remembers drinking with Zayn and spending the night on his horribly uncomfortable excuse of a couch. He had definitely spent some time drunkenly scrolling through Amazon while trying to fall asleep, thoughts of grand romantic gestures on his mind.

“Oh dear,” Louis says, just as Adrianna begins to list, on speakerphone:

“One order of a giant Valentine’s day teddy bear-”

“I should cancel that one probably.”

“Ninety-nine fresh red roses-”

“I _did_ cancel that one already! It was too many, I realize that now.”

“Twenty fresh red roses-”

“A much more reasonable number, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“One hundred assorted chocolates-”

“Those are… yeah, those are still coming. Is it too many, do you think?”

“Organic dog food-”

“I think I was going to get a puppy but then I didn’t.”

“A matching set of couple’s pyjamas-”

“In retrospect, yeah, I should return those, too.”

“One thousand ‘thinking of you’ sticky notes-”

“I feel like it’s not my fault that they sell those in packs of one thousand.”

“Ten black gel pens-”

“Oh, I think I got distracted in the stationary section there.”

“Twenty scented candles-”

“They’re different scents! How was I supposed to know which I’d like? It’s online shopping. Besides, candles are romantic.”

“A toilet brush-”

“_That_ got flagged? Liam said we need a new one.”

“And printer ink.”

“Right, yeah. That was Niall, my receptionist.”

Louis glances nervously at Harry, who is watching the exchange with wide eyes, mirth twinkling in the green of his irises. Louis is almost certain that once he hangs up, Harry will burst out laughing.

“So you confirm all of these charges are correct?” Adrianna asks professionally. There is no trace of judgement or amusement in her tone, and Louis can’t help but be impressed.

“Yes. If you can cancel the dog food, though, that would be fantastic.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You’ll have to go through the vendor. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Harry’s lips are twitching now, clearly doing his best to keep from laughing.

Louis can’t help but chuckle a little as the hilarity of the situation catches up with him, shaking his head. “No, no that’s all. Thank you.”

His phone makes a soft beep as he hangs up and as if it’s a cue, Harry immediately starts laughing. He doesn’t seem to be able to stop, nearly tipping out of his chair as he doubles over with laughter.

“Louis,” Harry says, breathless, “Louis, you’re going to get a package soon with all these cute things like candles, teddy bears, chocolates, and then right alongside them will be a _toilet brush_.”

Louis can’t help but laugh along with him. “Heyyy, it was drunk online shopping. Can you blame me?”

“It’s nowhere near Valentine’s day, though!” Harry teases. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just so funny.”

Louis smiles, pausing to consider whether or not to say his next words before ultimately deciding on it. “It’s not for Valentine’s day,” he says softly, and after another huff of a laugh, Harry’s chortles come to a stop. “It’s for you.”

Harry tilts his head sideways, his expression suddenly somber. “For me?”

Louis feels his cheeks heating, somehow more embarrassed than when Adrianna was reading out his excessive purchases. “I wanted to make a grand romantic gesture. Thought you might like it.”

Harry’s body relaxes, a wide smile slowly making its way to his face. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I hope you like it,” Louis says. “Although the real thing won’t be quite as extravagant as my drunken ideas.”

Harry beams, standing and stepping forwards into Louis’ space. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”

The sudden closeness leaves Louis feeling inexplicably cornered, as if Harry has backed him against a wall. As it is, they’re standing in the middle of the reception waiting area. There is plenty of space around them, though barely an inch between them. Louis knows he could step away, but that feels like backing down from a challenge somehow.

So instead, he angles his head upwards to look Harry in the eye and says, “Sorry that the surprise is ruined now.”

Harry lifts his hands so they are hovering just next to Louis’ sides. Louis isn’t sure if he isn’t touching him because he wants to be polite or because he wants to be a tease, but regardless, it’s maddening.

“No,” Harry says, his voice an octave lower than usual, “nothing’s been ruined…”

The word ‘yet’ hangs unspoken in the air between them, and somehow Louis wants nothing more than for Harry to ruin him. He swallows hard, his traitorous mind picturing it. Louis has no doubt that Harry could easily wreck him.

Harry raises his eyebrows, a cocky smile on his lips. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Louis opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. Perhaps it’s for the best, because he would be mortified to voice his thoughts right now.

The problem is that Harry is endlessly patient, whereas Louis can’t handle having something dangled in front of him, especially when it’s something he knows he can have. Harry seems perfectly content with his fingers dancing just a hair away from Louis’ skin, his lips smirking inches from Louis’ own, his entire body so close and yet too far. Louis doesn’t understand how he can be satisfied with that, especially when he knows how good it would be to close that final breath of distance between them.

Louis caves, surging forwards to connect their lips in a highly anticipated kiss. He holds Harry’s face in his hands, pulling him closer. He can feel Harry smirking into the kiss, pleased with himself, and nips at Harry’s lips in retaliation. It’s not Louis’ fault that he can’t resist his soulmate, after all.

Harry makes a sound in response which is somewhere between a hum and a groan, low and guttural. Now that Louis has broken the invisible barrier between them, all of Harry’s self-restraint seems to have vanished. His hands grab at Louis’ body eagerly, squeezing at his sides and roaming over his back. He walks them towards the desk, guiding Louis backwards until his bum is resting against the edge of it.

Now Louis feels rightfully trapped, boxed in against the reception desk by Harry’s body. Harry’s lips break away from his own to press kisses along his jaw and trail down his neck. Some of the kisses are soft, a gentle press of dry lips against his skin; some are sensual, open-mouthed and borderline reverent; some are rough, passionate and biting in a way that Louis is sure will leave a mark.

The uncertainty of it combined with Harry’s touch, his hands now gripping Louis with something like desperation, leaves Louis breathless. And then, Harry escalates things even more, pushing Louis back further on the desk.

He sucks hard at the junction of Louis’ neck for a moment before pulling off to murmur, “Got any lube?”

It takes Louis a moment to catch up. When he does, he all but squawks, “What?”

After all, they are still in the reception area. Not only is it not a fitting place to have penetrative sex for the first time, but there are plenty of glass windows directly across from them, none of which are tinted and all of which were freshly washed just yesterday.

“I said,” Harry repeats in a low whisper, even as he reaches over Louis to rummage around in the desk drawer, “do you have any lube?”

“I don’t keep lube at _work_,” Louis snaps.

Harry is undeterred – and rightfully so. A moment later, he triumphantly says, “Got it!”

Sure enough, he lifts up a small plastic bottle that is labeled bluntly: sexual lubricant. It’s store brand, half-empty, and was apparently in the top drawer of Niall’s desk.

Louis gapes at the bottle for a moment. Then, he splutters, “Is that- that’s not- that means- is Niall wanking out here?”

Harry laughs. “Think he’ll mind if we borrow some?”

“Honestly, no. But I thought that…” Louis pauses, glancing around the deserted parlor. It’s not the worst place to have sex, but it does seem odd for the first time. “I thought you would want this to be more… special.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on going quite that far right now,” Harry says easily. “But I do think you would look very pretty being fingered on this desk until you cry.”

Louis opens his mouth. Closes it. His dick begins to fill in his pants.

“What do you say?” Harry asks, the soft smile on his lips contrasting with the hungry look in his eyes.

“Yes, god yes,” Louis blurts. “But can we please use the office desk instead?”

“Ah, well since you asked so nicely,” Harry says teasingly, standing and lifting Louis by his bum, his legs wrapped around his waist.

They make it to the office in one piece, shedding their clothes almost immediately.

Half-naked Harry is truly a sight to see. The night before it had been dark and while Louis had certainly still appreciated Harry’s body to the fullest, being able to see clearly adds an entirely new dimension. Mind blank as he watches Harry casually discard his clothes and adjust himself in his briefs, Louis follows suit. He pulls off his jeans and very nearly tugs off his own long-sleeve shirt before he remembers – his soulmate tattoo. He falters, letting go of the fabric and hastily smoothing out his shirt.

Harry, ever observant, gives him a worried look. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just…” Louis hesitates, tugging nervously at the hem, “do you mind if I keep this on?”

The furrow of concern between Harry’s brows doesn’t lift, but he does nod and say, “Of course, Lou. Want you to be comfortable.”

Bizarrely, Louis feels more self-conscious with his shirt on than he ever has when getting naked, which is usually when he feels most vulnerable during sex. Then again, it’s probably because of the way that Harry is looking at him, his imploring green eyes asking questions that Louis can’t answer.

Louis clears his throat, tugs off his boxers, and scoots onto the desk, pushing aside the few papers that were on it to make space for them.

Harry’s gaze roams over his body, his expression a mixture of desire and something else that Louis can’t quite identify, something almost sad.

He isn’t able to ponder over it too much because then Harry steps forward, cradles his face in both hands, and kisses him. It starts out sweet – which is somewhat amusing considering that they came into this office with explicitly inappropriate intentions – but quickly becomes sensual, then downright filthy.

Louis is laid back on the desk with Harry hovering over him, his legs slotted between Louis’ and his torso propped up by one elbow. He presses against Louis as they kiss, confining him to the space between the matte wood and the muscles of his chest. Louis’ senses are alight with Harry’s touches, his skin tingling at every brush of his fingertips.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” Harry murmurs.

Louis stills, blinking in surprise. Harry doesn’t know, he reminds himself, that he is his soulmate. He wants to ask what he means, but can’t get the words to come out.

“I’ll show you,” Harry says in a whisper. It sounds like a promise. “I’ll show you.”

Harry reconnects their lips, snaking a hand down Louis’ chest to where his dick is already hard against his stomach. “Let me show you,” he says, kissing Louis almost reverently and using the lube to make the motion slick as he pumps a hand around Louis’ cock.

“Harry,” Louis whimpers, but he doesn’t have anything else to say - just Harry’s name in a soft plea for more.

“Spread your legs for me, Lou,” Harry urges, gently tapping at Louis’ thigh with his free hand.

Louis complies and is rewarded with a heavily lubed finger circling his hole before easing inside him.

“This okay?” Harry asks.

“More,” Louis gasps, wiggling his hips eagerly, “please.”

Harry adds his middle finger and Louis moans in appreciation. He has noticed Harry’s fingers before, of course, and strictly avoided thinking about them unless wanking. They are slender, long, and usually adorned with various rings. Apparently, they are also quite dexterous.

Louis isn’t completely sure what Harry is doing, but it’s somehow better than anything he has ever felt, a mixture of scissoring and crooking his fingers that has Louis keening. Harry seems content to continue at this pace - not that Louis is complaining necessarily, but he wants more. He rocks his hips against Harry’s fingers, needy, and fortunately Harry takes the hint.

Louis groans at the stretch as Harry adds a third finger, but he is glad for it. He is even more glad when, moments later, Harry’s fingers crook inside him just right, brushing over his prostate.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Louis chokes on the words, gripping at the edge of the desk and moving his hips to try to guide Harry back to that spot. “Right there, you had it, oh my god.”

When he peeks up at the man leaning over him, there’s a wicked smirk on his lips. “Did I?” Harry asks slyly.

Louis makes a noise of frustration, desperately rolling his hips to try to get the feeling back. If he felt sparks the first time they hooked up, then this is on the level of fireworks. Unsuccessful, Louis opens his mouth to demand Harry move his fingers right the fuck now, but just as he is about to speak, Harry says, “Alright, alright. As if I could deprive you.”

His fingers return to that blissful spot, this time with intention, and any words Louis might have produced come out as a garbled moan. He reaches out blindly for Harry, running his fingers over any part of him that he can reach: his face, his chest, and finally his cock. It’s sloppier than usual, due to the fact that Louis is nearing orgasmic bliss himself, but he wraps a hand around Harry and begins to jack him off as best as he can.

Harry makes an incredibly hot sound, and shows his appreciation by taking Louis’ dick in his free hand as well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis curses, his eyes rolling backwards. “Harry, fuck, oh my god.”

“You’re a loud one, aren’t you?” Harry says, retaining far more of his speech capabilities than Louis would like.

Normally Louis would fire back something witty, but right now there are more pressing things on his mind. “Harry, H, oh my god, I’m going to come.”

Harry hums in acknowledgement, stroking him through it as an orgasm rips through his body. It’s the most intense one Louis thinks he has ever had, stars overtaking his vision temporarily and his body trembling with aftershocks as he comes down from the high.

Harry removes his fingers and picks up where Louis left off in jacking himself off. As Louis recovers from his own orgasm, his gaze flits over Harry’s sculpted body before meeting his eyes. Harry’s eyes are dark with lust, and he only breaks the eye contact when he is coming, too, his head rolling backwards as he groans. It lands partially on Louis’ shirt and mostly on his thighs, but neither of them cares.

They clean up as best as they can with the limited supply of tissues in Louis’ office, stealing kisses as they wipe themselves off and get dressed again.

When they emerge from Louis’ office an hour later, they are both breathless and the entire office smells of sex. The small fan Louis has is in the corner chugging in an attempt to clear the air, but Louis is pretty sure it’s futile.

“Hey,” Harry says as he pulls his shirt over his head, “let me take you to dinner.”

Louis sucks in a breath, glancing at the time. “Oh, love,” he sighs, “I wish I could. But I’m supposed to meet Niall soon, and he’ll kill me if I’m late.”

“BJ’s?” Harry asks.

“What?” Louis looks down at Harry’s crotch, but it’s not tented in the slightest anymore. “You already came.”

Harry looks confused. “No, I meant to ask if you’re meeting Niall for BJ’s?”

Louis makes a face. “I don’t know what you do with your friends slash coworkers, but I certainly am not meeting Niall for a blowie. And especially not after you and I just…” he makes a crude motion with his hand, “you know.”

“Ohhh,” Harry says, apparently making some connection that Louis hasn’t. He throws back his head, laughing. “Buried Jewel, Louis,” he clarifies, “not blowjob.”

“Oh,” Louis blinks. Then, he laughs too. “Well, in that case, yeah, yeah. I am meeting him there.”

“That’s where I would have suggested we go for dinner anyways,” Harry tells him. “One of my pals just landed a weekly slot there, and tonight is his first night.”

“Really? That’s awesome.” The next words are out of his mouth before he has a chance to think them through. “You should come with us, then.”

“Niall won’t mind?”

Louis thinks of Niall and how he had so thoughtfully planned this night to be one free of soulmates. “Nah,” he lies, “of course not.”

-

When they arrive at four minutes past seven, Buried Jewel is the emptiest that Louis has ever seen it. There is a red-haired man performing on stage, the same artist from talent night who had played so many songs that made Louis want to dance. Harry explains in a low voice that his name is Ed and despite having known each other for years, Harry doesn’t actually know much more about him.

“He’s a very private person,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Crashed on our couch for nearly two months and I don’t even know his last name.”

“How is that even possible?”

Harry shrugs. “No idea. Anyway, I’ll get us some drinks, yeah?”

“Sure, sounds good.” Louis presses a fleeting kiss to Harry’s cheek, relishing in how Harry reddens and smiles as he does so.

Harry turns away to approach the bar, and Louis surveys the open tables in search of a familiar Irishman. It’s not a difficult task; when he spots Niall sitting at a table near the front, he is looking directly back at him, his eyebrows raised so high that if his hair wasn’t styled away from his forehead, they would be well under his hairline.

Louis makes his way over to where Niall is sitting, glancing at his phone on the way and frowning at the lack of notifications awaiting him. Still no reply from Liam.

“Louis,” Niall says by way of greeting, an undercurrent of something like disapproval laced in his tone. “I see that you brought Harry… to our worry-free, soulmate-free night.”

Louis looks over his shoulder to where Harry is chatting with the bartender, two brightly colored mixed drinks in hand. He scratches the back of his head, saying, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. He was planning on coming out to support Ed anyways. Thought it’d be weird if we came separately.”

Niall makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh and takes a long swig of beer.

“I know,” Louis says, biting his lip. “I know, I’m supposed to be keeping my distance or summat because the whole country thinks we’re conspirator masterminds. But he’s my soulmate. How can I stay away?”

Niall presses his lips together and nods in solemn understanding, but there’s a fond twinkle in his eye. “That’s how it works with soulmates. Or so I’ve heard, anyways.”

“Bullshit,” Louis says, taking a seat next to Niall. “You’ve experienced it firsthand.”

“Well sure, but I’m not actively trying to avoid my soulmate,” Niall says pointedly.

Harry walks up to the table then, and Niall attempts to cover what they were talking about by coughing loudly.

Louis rolls his eyes.

“Hey, Niall,” Harry says cheerfully, “are you alright?”

Niall’s coughs come to a stop and he gives Harry a thumbs up.

“Got you a drink, too,” Harry places a beer in front of Niall, a blue colored drink in front of Louis, and a pink one at the empty spot at the table for him.

“Cheers, mate,” Niall says, immediately chugging the rest of his first drink so that he can start on the next.

“What were you talking about?” Harry asks.

It’s an innocent question, but Niall chokes on his beer and spirals into another coughing fit.

Harry gives Louis a worried look. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Louis says dismissively, before motioning to his drink. “What is this?”

“I don’t know. The bartender talked me into it. It matches your eyes, though.”

“Well hey, thanks. I usually just get beers.”

“I know. But if I’m going to buy you a drink, then I’m going to buy you a _drink_.”

Harry is smiling wide, looking pleased with himself. Louis can’t help but feel the expression mirrored on his own face.

Niall has stopped coughing, and is now slumped down in his chair as a resigned third-wheel.

They sit quietly for a while, watching Ed perform. It’s just him and his guitar, but he works some real magic with his songs. The range of what he plays, all original songs, is astounding to Louis. Some are slow and romantic, others upbeat and snappy, and still others that sound inspired by fantastic travels.

“He is incredible,” Louis says as Ed finishes off an upbeat rap, somehow managing to pronounce every word clearly even at the rapid pace the song is set at. A chorus of applause partially drowns out the sentence, but Louis doesn’t mind. He joins in clapping loudly, too.

“What?” Harry asks, leaning closer to be able to hear. There might not be that many people in Buried Jewel tonight, but they make up for it with their enthusiasm.

“I said,” Louis repeats in a shout, even as the applause dies down, “that he’s incredible. Every song has been amazing, you know?”

Harry opens his mouth to reply, but it’s not him who speaks next. He has always been a slow talker, after all.

“Yeah, he is amazing, isn’t he?”

Louis turns to see a woman at the table next to them, just on the other side of Harry, giving them a knowing smile. Her hair is dark brown at the roots, fades into a lighter blond near the tips, and nearly reaches to her waist. She flips it over her shoulder in a fluid motion, but somehow the action seems smug rather than flirtatious.

“He really is,” Louis says agreeably, when Harry still fails to produce whatever he had been about to say.

“Are you fans?” she asks, an excited glimmer in her hazel eyes.

”As of tonight, yes,” Louis tells her. “Are you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says confidently, a bemused smile on her face, “huge fan.”

“Cool,” Louis smiles back, reaching across Harry to shake hands, “I’m Louis.”

“Cherry,” she introduces. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Louis cocks his head slightly, his mind suddenly kicked into overdrive. Her name seems fairly rare, and yet it sounds incredibly familiar. He’d recognize her face if she was a customer, though, surely.

“I’m Harry,” Harry says, finally joining the conversation. “Ed and I go back quite a bit, actually.”

“Oh, do you?” Cherry asks, looking delighted. “Do tell.”

“We used to both be budding musicians together,” Harry says, chuckling. “He lived on my couch for a while, even.”

Cherry gives him an indulging smile. “Oh, that’s nice. He told me he used to do a fair amount of couch surfing before we met.”

Harry nods. “Yep, that’s me – provider of the couch. Wait, you know each other too?”

“Know each other?” Cherry laughs softly. “Darling, we’re married.”

Louis, who had been half listening and half gauging whether there was enough time to get a second round of drinks before Ed started his next song, now whips around to face Cherry fully. “Married?”

Cherry nods, taking a sip of her drink while casually twisting it so that the ring on her left hand catches the light. “Recently, actually.”

“Congratulations,” Harry says earnestly, nudging Louis’ knee with his own when Louis fails to do anything other than gape.

For some reason, he hasn’t thought about marriage since meeting Harry. Before, he had always assumed that marriage was the obvious path that one took after finding their soulmate. It wasn’t meant to be rocky or uncertain by any means. Hell, Niall and Zayn would probably be tying the knot soon, too.

Louis swallows hard, glancing at the beautiful man next to him. The same man who had confessed that he didn’t plan on staying in the city long, the same man who was actively seeking to have his soulmate tattoo removed, the same man who would almost certainly break Louis’ heart. With all of the craziness from his tattoo parlor opening to getting wrapped up in soulmate conspiracy drama, Louis realizes that he had started living life from day to day without much thought for the long-term future. Most likely, Harry would leave town soon and find someplace elsewhere that he could get the ship on his arm permanently removed. Louis knew this, and yet he hadn’t really stopped to think about the consequences for himself.

He would never marry his soulmate.

Most likely, he would never marry at all.

“Is he your soulmate?” Louis hears himself asking. He hadn’t meant to, but the words came out of their own accord.

Ed is halfway through his next song by now, but it’s a soft ballad so Louis’ voice carries over it with ease.

Harry gives him a funny look, eyebrows knit together.

“Of course,” Cherry replies, a similarly confused expression on her face.

Louis hesitates. In retrospect, her answer seems obvious. Maybe he really is becoming an anti-soulmate conspirator. “Right,” Louis forces a laugh, echoing dryly, “of course.”

The silence that follows as they listen to the rest of Ed’s song, which Louis had rudely interrupted, is noticeably less comfortable than it was before. Louis’ mind is racing, but his thoughts feel foggy even as they swirl around him, nothing making sense.

Another round of applause sounds as Ed finishes off this song, followed by a sharp screech as Niall shoves his chair backwards and stands up.

“C’mon, Lou,” he says, grabbing Louis by the elbow and hauling him to his feet as well. His tone is cheerful, even if his mannerisms aren’t. “We’ll get everyone some more drinks.” Then, turning to Cherry, “What are you drinking, love?”

She looks pleasantly surprised to be included, shrugging and saying honestly, “The cheapest cocktail on the menu. Couldn’t tell you the name.”

“We’ll get you the second cheapest, how’s that?” Niall says, flashing a grin.

Cherry laughs, raising her near-empty glass in cheers as Niall pulls Louis along with him.

“So,” Niall says as they approach the bar, still not having let go of Louis’ arm, “that was the worst thing I’ve witnessed in a long time.”

“Are you and Zayn going to get married?” Louis asks bluntly.

Niall looks a little stunned, but he brushes it off quickly enough. He shrugs nonchalantly, but there is a telltale glimmer in his eyes. “We haven’t talked too much about it, but it’s definitely in the cards. That’s sort of how these things go, Lou. You know that.”

“I know, I know. Find your soulmate, experience bliss, get married, marital bliss,” Louis waves a hand carelessly. “I mean, don’t get me wrong - I’m thrilled for you and Zayn, really. No one deserves that sort of happiness more than the two of you.”

Niall shrugs, but he’s beaming. “Don’t worry, Lou. I know you are.” 

“Good. But I just…” Louis exhales loudly. “Niall, am I actually an anti-soulmate conspirator?”

Niall raises his eyebrows. “You brought your soulmate here tonight,” he points out, “and you are constantly trying to win his affection. I’m going to go with _no_, you are not.”

“But I just asked Cherry if her _husband_ was her soulmate or not. Genuinely. That’s the worst part – it’s a stupid question, but I meant it.”

“I’m telling ya, you need a break from all of this soulmate stuff. It’s getting to your head.” Niall says wisely as he motions to the bartender.

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, “when I asked Cherry that, all I could think about was how I’ll probably never get to marry my soulmate.”

“See?” Niall shakes his head, squeezing Louis’ arm comfortingly. “You’re all wrapped up in this and it’s not healthy. There’s no need to worry about marriage just yet. There’s plenty of time for that. Hell, some soulmates don’t even meet until they’re nearly retired. There’s no rush to get married.”

“I want to, though. To get married, I mean,” Louis says softly.

“And someday you will,” Niall says firmly. He sounds sure of himself, as if there is no doubt in his mind that someday Louis will be wed.

Louis knows there is no way Niall could know this for sure, and yet something about Niall’s confidence eases his nerves nonetheless. “Yeah, okay,” Louis agrees, trying to push the thought from his head as best as he can. “Anyways, tell me more about how you’re doing. How’s Z? I’ve been complaining about myself nonstop all night, it feels like.”

“Ah, you’re alright, mate,” Niall assures him, “you’ve got a lot going on. But yeah, I’m great. Zayn is alright, too. Working a lot lately, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Niall gives Louis a sidelong glance, looking unsure of whether or not to elaborate. After a moment, he does. “There are a lot of riots going on right now, around the world. Turns out there are more conspirators than we thought.”

“Anti-soulmate riots?” Louis asks, taken aback. For as long as he can remember, soulmates were a fact of life. He hadn’t even known there were people who didn’t believe they were real, until he met Harry.

Niall nods, lips pressed together in a grim line. “That’s why that reporter was so eager to get dirt on you, I think. The anti-soulmate conspiracy is the hottest news topic right now. And the more publicity they get, the more their numbers seem to grow. Latest poll has them at 12% of the population.”

“Really?” Louis whistles lowly. “Jesus. I had no idea. How is Zayn holding up?”

Niall holds a hand out, tilting it back and forth to indicate Zayn is ‘so-so'. “Well there’s not much exciting around here – the biggest related news is you and Harry getting pizza, as far as I know – but he’s working around the clock to make sure it stays that way. He’s really worried about the sentiment spreading.”

“Makes sense. Give him my best, though, yeah?” Louis says, giving Niall a consoling pat on the back before adding sarcastically, “And tell him I’ll try not to make things any more difficult than they are as _leader_ of the conspirators around here.”

Niall snorts, a smile coming to his face. “Accepted the role then, have you?”

“Yeah, just have to let Harry know that even though this was all his idea, I’m the one in charge,” Louis jokes.

“Oh yeah,” Niall teases, “surely _that’s_ the most important thing you’ve got to tell Harry.”

Louis is in the middle of a dramatic eye roll, when another voice cuts in.

“What do you have to tell me?”

Shit.

Beside him, Niall sucks in a sharp breath.

Harry is standing too close to him, and it’s distracting. Louis is usually quick on his feet, always ready with a witty comeback. But somehow Harry never learned the appropriate amount of personal space to leave between friends, his knees nearly knocking against where Louis’ own are sticking out as he sits on a barstool. In this position, the difference in their height is accentuated as well, making Louis’ mouth feel inexplicably dry.

“Um,” Louis says eloquently, staring at Harry in a way that he’s not entirely sure could be passed off as casual.

Harry arches an eyebrow, his lips quirking upwards. “Yes?”

“I was going to tell you that…” Louis trails off, willing his mind to work. Then, he remembers, “We’re in the paper.”

Niall sighs, and Louis is sure that if they were to have another private chat, he would inform him that in fact _that_ was the worst thing he has witnessed.

“Are we?” Harry actually looks astonished by this news, green eyes wide.

“We’re soulmate conspiracy leaders, it seems,” Louis tells him. “The most prominent in the city, I think they said.”

A wicked smile forms on Harry’s face. Then, it falters, one corner of his lips turning downwards. “Wait,” he says, “that’s really bad for you, isn’t it?”

Louis shrugs. “Could be.”

“Well, we’ve started losing business already,” Niall reminds him.

“Alright, yeah,” Louis says, “it’s bad.”

“How do we fix it?” Harry asks, looking truly concerned.

“I don’t reckon you can,” Niall says. “If you deny it, it’ll still look bad and you’ll lose anyone who is supporting you because they respect you standing by your opinions – which I think is most of the customers.”

“Damn,” Harry curses. “So, what do we do?”

“Right now?” Niall asks, reaching for his beer. “We drink.”

Harry reaches out to pick up the bright cocktail that Louis had ordered on his behalf, holding it up in a toast. “To tattoos,” he says, and they all clink their drink glasses against his.

“To tattoos,” Louis echoes, thinking of his compass tattoo, its needle pointing towards home.

Louis and Niall make their excuses to leave early, something about work tomorrow being extra stressful now that the tides of public opinion have turned against them. There are only a few songs left in Ed’s set, but Harry wishes them a good night without any qualms and heads back to join Cherry for the rest of the show.

“Try this again another time?” Niall asks as he unlocks his car, an old rackety machine that Louis is not convinced is safe to drive. “Just you and me, no soulmate bullshit?”

“Another time,” Louis promises.

After all, surely it’s possible for him to have at least one day without the issue of soulmates pervading his every thought. Or so he thinks, anyways.

-

When Louis gets home later that night, their flat is quiet. The light in the living room has been left on, which is probably his own fault from earlier. Liam would be upset about wasting electricity, if he were here to see it.

“Liam?” Louis calls out as he hangs his keys on the hook by the door. “Are you here?”

Silence answers him.

Louis frowns, running a hand through his hair as he tries to remember the last time he went this long without hearing from Liam. Throughout their entire friendship, he can’t think of any.

He calls Liam’s cell immediately, which rings for ages before going to voicemail. He calls again after he showers and twice more while laying in bed. No answer, every time.

As he tries to fall asleep himself, he can’t help but think of the bed across the hall without Liam in it and tries unsuccessfully to quell the knot of tension building in his stomach as he wonders where Liam could possibly be.

-

Louis has made a lot of poor decisions in his lifetime. Showing up unexpectedly at Derrick’s apartment the next morning is one of the worst yet, he realizes as Derrick wrenches open the door, an angry snarl on his face. But when he had woken up to an empty flat and no new messages from Liam on his phone, he had figured this was the only thing left to do.

“Who the hell are you?” Derrick says gruffly.

And right, of course Liam’s oh-so-caring soulmate wouldn’t know who he is. “I’m here for Liam,” Louis says, squaring his shoulders.

It seems his pounding on the door has woken Derrick up, because the angry man in front of him looks disheveled and takes a while to respond. His eyes flit slowly over Louis, as if he is still trying to process his surroundings.

Louis takes this as an opportunity to peer into the apartment behind him for any signs of Liam – his overnight bag, in the best case, or maybe his unconscious body in the worst.

The kitchen that the apartment opens into is a mess. Liam would never let Louis have that many dirty dishes piled up or leave food lying around until it attracted flies. Louis wrinkles his nose, finding it hard to imagine that Liam has been hiding out here for the past couple of days. Perhaps he is with another friend? But if so, then why hasn’t he replied to Louis’ many messages and calls?

“He isn’t here,” Derrick says, after such an extended pause that Louis has nearly forgotten what he had said to prompt this conversation. Then, he shifts his stance to more effectively block Louis’ view of the apartment behind him. It’s a suspicious move, and only makes Louis more certain that Derrick is at fault for Liam’s disappearance.

Louis narrows his eyes, raising his chin to meet Derrick’s challenging gaze. “I don’t believe you,” he says stubbornly, “and I’m not leaving until I get to talk to him.”

Derrick shrugs and steps back to slam the door shut.

Louis is a split second faster, managing to slide his foot in front of the door to stop it from closing. It bangs against his foot with a loud thud and Louis winces in pain. “Fucking hell,” he curses, pulling his foot free as Derrick opens the door again and hopping around on his good foot for a moment. “That fucking hurt.”

“He doesn’t live here,” Derrick snaps. “If you’re so hellbent on seeing that lying, cheating bastard, try his own apartment. He lives south of here with some dumb, annoying twink.”

“That would be me, asshole,” Louis’ hand clenches into a fist of its own accord, “and why would you ever call Liam a-” Louis freezes as his brain catches up.

What reason would Derrick have to call Liam a liar and a cheater? He can only think of one, and it makes his blood run cold.

“You _know_,” Derrick accuses derisively - and if he’s talking about what Louis thinks he is, then he’s not wrong. “You’ve been living with him the whole time, of course you know.”

There is a manic gleam in his hazel eyes, and as Louis’ brain flounders desperately for some other possible explanation, he can’t help but recall how Liam used to gush about the stars in Derrick’s eyes, back before he started coming home with bruises.

Derrick steps forward, shoving Louis by his chest and causing him to stumble backwards into the hall.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Louis hisses, recovering his balance and standing straighter to make the difference in their height less prominent. It doesn’t do much. Derrick is taller and broader than him by quite a large margin; if this turns into a physical fight, Louis is going to be at a woeful disadvantage.

This is probably what it is like for Liam, he realizes as Derrick corners him against the wall - nowhere to run and physical injury inevitable. It’s worse for Liam, of course, because he endures this regularly and had until recently thought of the man responsible as the love of his life. At least for Louis, this will be their first and last interaction, and he can rightfully think of Derrick as the total asshole he is.

“You don’t want me to hurt you? Then tell me that you didn’t know,” Derrick says, sounding almost playful, “and I won’t lay another finger on you.”

Louis gulps. “Didn’t know what?”

Derrick shoves him the final distance backwards, his back hitting the wall with a thud and his head cracking back against it. “Don’t play stupid.”

He knows it’s among the worst possible things he could say, and yet it comes out of his mouth anyways. “I mean, you said it yourself: I’m just a dumb, annoying twink, aren’t I?”

Self-preservation has never been Louis’ strong suit. He’ll blame it on the recent blow to his head if anyone asks.

Fortunately, Derrick doesn’t react physically. Instead, he glowers at Louis and elaborates, “That Liam was getting his soulmate tattoo removed.”

Hearing the words spoken out loud is somehow worse than if Derrick had punched him in the face.

Up until this moment, all of Louis’ fears were contained inside his head. Now, they have manifested in front of him, his worst nightmare come to life. It is as if Louis had set up a bomb that he hoped no one would find, placed it directly next to his hopes, dreams, and everything that he holds dear, and now Derrick has ignited it.

The consequences are seemingly endless. Louis’ brain goes into overdrive as he tries to categorize them all, attempting to determine which is the most serious and pressing at the moment. His tattoo parlor will be shut down. He will be banned from working as a tattoo artist ever again, and that would be getting off lightly. More likely, he’ll be sentenced to a life in jail and will never have any career again, especially not one as a tattoo artist entrepreneur.

Niall might also be imprisoned for assisting with the crime, if his involvement comes to light. His sentence would likely be shorter than Louis’, but it would be impossible to continue his relationship with Zayn. Soulmates or not, an active cop and a convicted felon would never be permitted to marry.

And not to mention _Liam_. Louis’ heart clenches as he thinks of his best friend. Somehow out of all of this, the worst outcome is that kindhearted Liam would be forced to live out the rest of his days with Derrick, who Louis is increasingly convinced is as soulless as one can be.

Then, Louis processes Derrick’s words further. _Liam was getting his soulmate tattoo removed_.

“Was?” he squeaks, heart jackrabbiting thunderously inside his chest as he tries not to think of the implications of Derrick using past tense. “Where is Liam?”

“How long have you known?” Derrick demands, interrupting his panicked thoughts. When Louis doesn’t answer, he repeats the question in a low voice, pausing between each word threateningly. “How. Long. Have. You. Known.”

“Known?” Louis spits out. “It was my goddamned idea.”

And then, Derrick does punch him in the face.

His fist lands slightly left of Louis’ nose, knuckles connecting squarely with his eye. His head whips backwards into the wall again from the force of the hit and his vision momentarily goes black, stars exploding behind his clenched eyelids. Louis staggers to the side, his hands coming up to belatedly cover his face as pain radiates from his eye.

It takes everything in him to not crumple on the spot, not wanting to give Derrick the satisfaction of seeing just how much that hurt. “Tell me where Liam is,” Louis says, his voice coming out stronger than he feels.

“I’ll tell you this,” Derrick says. “If you’re here looking for him, it sounds like he got what was coming for him.”

This time, Derrick successfully slams the door in his face, leaving Louis gaping at the wood in front of him.

_No_, he thinks. _No, no, no, no_.

This cannot be happening. It’s all he can think, his mind spiraling in a frantic search of some other possible explanation.

He stumbles into the plaster of the wall behind him, sinking down into a crouch. He buries his head in his hands, hissing in pain as he makes contact with the injured side of his face.

No. Not Liam. None of this is his fault. He had put up with Derrick’s abusive ways for far longer than he ever should have had to. It was Louis’ idea to remove his tattoo, and Louis who had been out parading around with Harry instead of laying low.

The worst part is, Louis still doesn’t know where Liam is. What Derrick had said could mean a number of things. For all he knows, when Derrick found out, he beat him to a pulp and left him to die. Or maybe he managed to escape Derrick’s wrath, but was too weak to get home, and died. Maybe in a frantic attempt to get away, he hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, stumbled into oncoming traffic, and died.

He doesn’t even remember his last conversation with Liam. Had it been about buying a new toilet brush? Had it been about Louis being in the newspaper? God forbid, had it been about Derrick?

Louis doesn’t realize that tears are rolling down his cheeks until he goes to take a shaky breath and finds himself sobbing. His stomach flips and he squeezes his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms.

_Don’t jump to the worst_, he tells himself, trying to channel some of Liam’s rationality. Liam is always the level-headed one, the one who is good at dealing with times of crisis. It makes his stomach drop again when he reaches for his phone, knowing that Liam’s number would be the first he would dial if this was about anyone else.

_Liam is probably not dead_, he reminds himself. It’s true, but it doesn’t make him feel much better.

He tries again. _Liam is probably not dead, and _if_ he is dead I’ll kill Derrick myself_. It’s less true, but feels better.

Louis draws in a deep, shuddering breath.

He doesn’t know what he should be doing but sitting in front of Derrick’s door and debating whether or not Liam is still alive is probably not it. He makes himself stand, though his foot is throbbing and his knees feel weak. One foot in front of the other, he focuses on getting away from Derrick’s flat.

He checks his phone as he walks down the stairs, half-heartedly hoping for a text from Liam.

There isn’t one.

Instead, there’s a load of email notifications, a sweet text from Harry, and a series of increasingly panicked messages from Niall, along with seven missed calls. Louis’ eyes flick upwards on his phone screen to check the time. He’s not late for his first appointment – although he will be if he doesn’t leave soon – so he’s not sure what Niall is so riled up about.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:05 AM]

answer your phone 

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:05 AM]

now

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:06 AM]

!!!!!!!!

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:09 AM]

its important

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:16 AM]

LOUIS WHERE R U

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:21 AM]

call me back.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:21 AM]

NOW.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:24 AM]

its about liam

Louis feels himself go still, pausing mid-step. He doesn’t bother reading the rest of Niall’s texts, immediately pressing the telephone icon to dial him.

Derrick’s apartment building stairwell does not have cell service, and Louis practically throws himself down the rest of the stairs to the ground floor and out of the building so he can call again.

“Louis, thank fuck, where are you?” Niall says all in one breath, answering before the first ring has even finished trilling in Louis’ ear.

“I’m…” Louis looks around him, scratching his head. He had followed his GPS here, and doesn’t actually know what sort of answer will help Niall figure out where he is. “North? Sort of near-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Niall says impatiently, “you have to come into the parlor. As soon as you can. Like, there’s-a -woman-giving-birth-in-your-passenger-seat level of speeding, okay? Get here.”

“What’s going on?” Louis asks, wincing at the pain in his foot as he tries to jog to his car.

“You need to get here, that’s what’s going on,” Niall says, curt and unhelpful. “Hurry.”

Louis slides into the driver’s seat and turns the key. “Okay, Ni,” he says as the engine starts. “I’m on my way.”


	7. quid pro quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which louis comes up with an idea to help liam (involving harry), makes a deal he doesn't want to make (with harry), has a heart to heart with everyone (except harry), and finds the silver lining in ignoring his friends' advice (about harry)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the time in which you all were waiting for this update, I  
\- took final exams  
\- saw Harry Styles live  
\- learned how to ski  
\- wrote an entire other fic (which should be revealed this weekend if anyone is interested)
> 
> Massive apologies for the delay, especially at the worst cliffhanger so far. But as always, I hope you enjoy.

The tattoo parlor is dark when Louis arrives, the sign in the window flipped to read ‘closed’ and the door locked. A second sign has been posted as well, an apology for the unexpected closure in Niall’s neatest handwriting.

Louis had expected for Niall to let him in, but after a moment of standing outside of the parlor alone, it becomes clear that this is not the case. He rummages for his keys and unlocks the door, greeted by nothing but silence.

Then, Niall’s head sticks out of Louis’ office horizontally. “Lock the door behind you,” he whispers loudly, “then c’mere.”

Louis narrows his eyes, but does as he is told. “What the fuck is going on?” he hisses as he hobbles over to his office, the pain in his foot having worsened during his drive over.

“Jesus,” Niall says at a normal volume, blinking in shock at Louis. “Are you hung over? We didn’t drink that much yesterday.”

Louis pushes his sunglasses back to rest on the top of his head, revealing his swelling eye. “No, I’m not.”

Niall’s jaw drops.

It’s understandable. Louis can feel his eye puffing up already in what is sure to be a nasty bruise and can only imagine what it looks like.

“Are you okay? You look terrible.”

“Gee, thanks,” Louis says drily. “Anyways, it’s not important. What’s this about Liam?”

“Oh, right,” Niall grabs Louis’ arm, tugging him into the small office space.

Louis has been thinking about redesigning the office ever since they first opened, but in this moment he is grateful for the minimal decorations taking up space. There is hardly enough room for all three of them as it is, especially since Liam is currently sprawled across the desk, looking the worst that Louis has ever seen him.

“Li…” Louis says softly, simultaneously overcome with relief and filled with worry.

Liam’s head rolls to the side to face them, his eyes glassy. He doesn’t say anything.

For a moment, Louis can’t think past the white-hot rage that fills his veins, balling his hands uselessly into fists at his sides. Another fight with Derrick would do no good – he knows that from firsthand experience now – and yet, it’s all he wants to do. He wishes that he had managed to get in a punch of his own before Derrick had slammed the door.

Liam’s wounds don’t look fresh, which is the only consolation that Louis has right now. There are bruises nearly everywhere that he can see; Liam’s eye, neck, arms, and even his hands are tinged purple and yellow, black and blue. There isn’t any dried blood on his skin, so at least he has had a chance to wash up, but his shirt is stained with an alarming amount of reddish-brown down the front.

There is a shift in Liam’s gaze, the vacant look in his eyes sharpening as he focuses on Louis. He sits up abruptly, a motion that causes him to clutch his ribcage in pain, and says with a raspy voice, “What happened to _you_?”

Louis feels his eyes begin to water. How can Liam - covered in blood and bruises, having been discovered by his soulmate for his crime - be worried about _him_?

“Li…” It’s a single syllable, but Louis’ voice still cracks. “Where have you been?”

Neither of them answer right away. Instead, Liam opens his arms and Louis all but falls into them, wrapping Liam up in a gentle hug. Holding Liam like this gives him the illusion, if only for a moment, that he can somehow protect him from the cruelty of the world.

They stay like that for a while, pretending that everything else has somehow faded away before Louis breaks the moment. “Why didn’t you come home?”

Liam pulls back, sighing. “It didn’t feel safe,” he says. “Derrick found out, and I thought that would be the first place anyone looked for me.”

“You scared the shit out of me, Li,” Louis tells him quietly, frowning as he looks over the other man’s wounds again. “You’re still scaring me, actually. Do you need, like, a hospital?”

“Maybe,” Liam admits, “but if he’s reported me to the cops, they’ll find me if I check into a hospital, probably before I’ve even been treated.”

“You can’t keep living on the streets, though, that’s for sure,” Niall chimes in.

Louis feels his eyes glint dangerously at this new information and has to make an active effort to soften his gaze before turning it back towards Liam. “For sure,” he echoes Niall, trying to keep his tone even. “We’ll get you a hotel, if you want. Or find someone that you can crash with.”

Niall shrugs, offering, “You can stay at mine.”

“You’re dating a cop,” Liam reminds him, not unkindly.

“Oh,” Niall says, “yeah I suppose that could be an issue.”

“Someone else, then,” Louis says quickly, doing his best to make it sound easy. He knows Liam, knows that he hates imposing on other people. “I’ve got some friends who owe me favours.”

“Hiding a fugitive isn’t exactly a favour that you can call in, Lou,” Liam says bitterly.

Louis exhales slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Do you think there’s any chance Derrick hasn’t called us in yet?”

“No,” Liam says quietly. Then, he amends, “Well, maybe a slight chance. But it’s too risky to operate on that assumption.”

Louis tries not to look pointedly at Niall, the only one with a connection that might allow them to find out.

“And it’s not ‘us’. It’s just me,” Liam continues. “Derrick doesn’t know either of you are involved.”

Louis gives him a wry smile. “I suppose since Derrick hasn’t bothered to pay attention to anything about your life in your years of dating, it makes sense that he wouldn’t know I’m a tattoo artist. But the police would put those pieces together in an instant. Even if they can’t get proof of it, I’ll be the top suspect for sure.”

“Not to mention all of this anti-soulmate conspirator bullshit…” Niall mumbles. When Louis and Liam both turn to look at him, he winces, apologetic.

“No, you’re right,” Louis tugs at his hair in frustration. “This is exactly the mess we feared we would be in, and somehow it’s worse than we thought it could be. I guess at least on the bright side, Derrick thinks that I have no idea where you are.”

Both boys turn to him, Niall with his eyebrows raised skeptically and Liam with his furrowed in a frown.

“Oh,” Louis scratches the back of his neck, shrugging at Liam as he realizes he hasn’t yet explained his state of injury. “Um, I might have gone to confront him this morning because I thought he was forcing you to stay there with him against your will.”

“You what?” Liam asks in disbelief, his gaze searching Louis’ face.

“Wish I could say ‘you should see the other guy,’ but he’s actually fine,” Louis jokes.

“Louis,” Liam says wetly. It seems to be all he can say at the moment, and when Louis meets his eyes, they are brimming with emotion.

“He’s the one who did this to you?” Niall demands, his mouth set in an angry line. He turns to Liam as well, adding, “To both of you?”

Louis glances at Liam, who returns the look, before they nod simultaneously at Niall.

“That fucker,” Niall curses. “He can’t get away with this. We ought to go to the poli- oh.”

Louis gives him a wry smile. “Ironic, innit?”

Niall huffs out a breath of air. “Fine. The first thing we should do is figure out where Liam can stay, anyways.”

“Could I stay here?” Liam asks timidly.

“At the parlor?” It takes all of Louis’ willpower to remain logical rather than giving in to Liam’s imploring brown eyes. “No… This is the first place they’ll search for evidence that I removed your tattoo. It’s not any safer here than it is at our flat.”

“The hotel is a good idea, innit?” Niall says. He looks deliberately hopeful, his eyes bright in a way that isn’t quite genuine. “We can say that Lou or I have family visiting or summat.”

Liam shakes his head. “We don’t have money for that.”

Louis takes Liam’s hand, squeezing it softly. “Your safety is worth any price, Li,” he says meaningfully. He thinks for another moment before saying, “I’m worried that would be too easy to debunk, though – surely there would be suspicious video surveillance of us going in and out without any sign of family members.”

Niall agrees with a sigh and they fall quiet for a moment, trying to come up with a plan. It’s hard to think clearly when half of your brain is occupied by panicking that your worst nightmare has become reality.

Still, slowly but surely, a shell of an idea begins to form in Louis’ mind. There are some details to work out, and he doesn’t know if the person he has in mind would agree, but it’s at least possible. After all, he can’t think of anyone else he knows that might be willing to harbor a fugitive.

“I might have an idea,” Louis says, already reaching for his phone to make the call.

“No,” Niall says immediately, looking at Louis shrewdly. “No, no, no.”

“What?” Louis asks, chuckling a little. “I haven’t even said what my idea is.”

“Look at him,” Niall says to Liam, pointing a finger in Louis’ direction. “Do you recognize that face?”

“It’s me, guys, of course you recog-”

“That’s his _Harry_ face,” Niall cuts him off, folding his arms across his chest. “All fond eyes and shit.”

“I do not have a Harry face,” Louis protests.

Niall raises a challenging eyebrow. “Am I wrong? Who are you about to call?”

Louis falters. “Well, him, but-”

“Ha!” Niall claps his hands together victoriously. “And no, to your idea. The solution to being under investigation for anti-soulmate actions is not to add a prominent anti-soulmate conspirator to the mix.”

“Can you think of anyone else who would be willing to let Liam stay with them, and who we trust to do so graciously without turning us all in to the police?” Louis counters.

Niall takes a big breath, presumably about to launch another argument against asking for Harry’s help, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Call him.” Liam, who has been otherwise quiet, is the one who ends their bickering.

Louis and Niall both fall quiet. There is an unspoken agreement that Liam should be the one to have the final say in the matter.

“Call him,” Liam repeats, a grave expression etched into his face.

Louis nods, willed into action by the seriousness of Liam’s tone, and takes out his phone.

Harry picks up on the fourth ring, just as Louis had made peace with the fact that he was going to be sent to voicemail and was beginning to rehearse a message to leave in his head.

“Hello?” Harry says, followed by some clanging and shouting sounds. There’s a muffled, “Hang on, I’ve just got to take this!” from Harry’s end, and then the background noises fade out. “Sorry, hello?”

“Hey, H,” Louis says, “er, is this a bad time?”

“Not at all,” Harry says brightly, though Louis is almost certain he is lying.

“I’ve got a bit of a favour to ask of you.”

“A _bit_?” Niall hisses from his left.

“Right, well – a big favour to ask of you, I suppose,” Louis amends.

“A favour for a favour, is that what you had in mind?” Harry asks.

Louis’ next words fall flat on his tongue. _A favour for a favour_, he thinks to himself. It reminds him of the time he ran into Harry while he was working at the restaurant. Just like last time, the favour they speak of does not refer to a blow job, although Louis would much prefer that. But no, he knows exactly what favour Harry wants from him in return. It’s what he has wanted since day one, after all.

Louis takes a deep breath, tucking his phone under his ear so he can slide his sleeve up to look at his own compass tattoo. Then, he looks up at Liam, a world of emotion reflected back at him in his best friend’s eyes.

A favour for a favour is not what Louis had in mind, but it seems fair considering the circumstances.

“Yeah,” Louis says, strained, barely anything more than an exhale shaped in the form of a word. Then, with more certainty, “yeah. We can do that, if that’s what it takes.”

After all, if he’s going to jail for Liam already, there’s not much left that he has to lose.

On the other end of the line, Harry sucks in a sharp breath. “…Really?”

“Really.”

There’s a long pause before Harry says, “Well, you already know what favour I want… what is it that I can do for you?”

“Liam’s soulmate found out,” Louis explains, sighing heavily. “He needs a place to stay for a while where no one can find him – especially not his soulmate. Ours will be the first place they check, Niall is fraternizing with the enemy-”

“Hey!”

“-and we couldn’t think of anyone else willing to hide him from the police that we trusted.”

Harry doesn’t say anything for a moment, in which Louis can practically feel everyone in the room holding their breath.

“Are you in?” Louis prompts, feeling desperate.

“I’ll have to check with Mitch,” Harry says, his words sounding slower than usual, “but I think so.”

Louis feels the tension in his shoulders fall away, if only for a moment. “Okay,” he says, flashing Liam and Niall a perhaps preemptive thumbs up, “let me know.”

“I will,” Harry assures him. It feels final, and Louis is about to hang up when Harry adds, “And Lou?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. I’m really sorry for the way it came about, but… what you’re offering to do for me, it’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that. _Everything you’ve ever wanted, and everything I’ve ever feared_, he thinks sadly. He pushes his sleeve down to cover his compass once more, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he says finally, “I know.”

He hangs up then, not caring if Harry has more to say.

Liam and Niall are looking at him expectantly, worry written all over their faces. Louis forces his lips upwards in some semblance of a smile, saying quietly, “He has to check with Mitch, but he thinks they can do it.”

“How long can he stay for?” Niall asks.

“We didn’t exactly negotiate that, but I’d guess at least as long as it takes for me to do another tattoo removal,” Louis says wryly.

Niall and Liam fall quiet as they process his words.

“You mean…?” Niall asks.

“You’re going to…?” Liam asks.

Louis nods before rounding on Liam fiercely. “And don’t you dare try to talk me out of it.”

Liam opens his mouth to say something but seems to think better of it. Instead, he pushes himself off of the desk to give Louis a hug, reaching out with one arm to grab the front of Niall’s shirt and tug him in to join.

“Thank you,” Liam says, muffled from where his face is buried in the crook of Louis’ neck. “You didn’t have to do any of this for me, and now look at where it’s gotten you. Both of you.”

“Got to take today off of work, you mean?” Niall jokes, wrapping his arms around both boys.

It shouldn’t be funny, but it is.

Liam chuckles gratefully and Louis gives Niall a dry smile. “You wish, Horan,” he says. “There’s still plenty of work to do today.”

-

It’s not really work, though. It’s a day of taking care of Liam.

They take shifts, one person staying with him in the office room at all times. Niall goes first, with the mission of getting food after Liam reveals that he can’t remember the last time that he ate.

Louis and Liam are quiet for a while after the jangle of the front door signals Niall’s departure. It’s not a tense silence, but it’s not quite comfortable either. The loss of Niall’s presence in the room is noticeable, the way one is suddenly aware when the sun is blocked by a dark cloud. Louis closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind.

“Louis…” Liam says, his voice hoarse and his tone careful.

Louis blinks his eyes back open, met with the view of his small office, almost entirely filled by the large desk that Liam is now sitting on. He is sitting cross-legged on the floor himself, and the new vantage point provides an entirely new perspective. “Hmm,” Louis says, “should get a couch in here instead of the desk, don’t you think?”

Liam’s lips twitch towards a smile, and he willingly lets Louis deflect away from their current problems. “Might seem less professional that way,” he says after a moment of considering the room, “or make you seem like a therapist.”

“Some backroom therapy is exactly what this tattoo parlor needs, though,” Louis says, only half joking.

“What about the desk, plus a loveseat against the other wall?” Liam suggests.

It’s a good idea, and Louis tells him so.

“You should do it,” Liam tells him, “once this whole mess is over.”

Louis’ smile slips for a split second. _If_ he makes it out of this mess with his career intact, he thinks. “Yeah,” he says, “yeah, I will.”

Liam presses his lips together, his eyes big and filled with concern. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, Li,” Louis cuts him off, perhaps a touch too harshly. He makes an effort to soften his tone, repeating gently, “No, Li, you’ve got nothing to apologize for. Please stop saying that you’re sorry.”

Liam’s expression becomes impossibly more pitiful. “But I am sorry,” he says. “You keep saying that no cost is too high, but I’ve already cost you both your soulmate and your career – how can that not be too high? What else even is there left for me to take from you? Your life, I guess. But the police might just take that, too, if they put you in a cell for the rest of it.”

Louis admittedly doesn’t know what to say. When they had first concocted this scheme, it was like they were playing in a sandbox, digging a small hole in a playground just for fun. Now it has morphed into something larger and they are in the middle of the desert, trapped in a hole so deep that the only option is to continue digging deeper.

“It’s my fault that you met Harry the way you did,” Liam continues. “We tried so hard to keep you out of the situation in which you would have to remove his soulmate tattoo, and now…”

Louis shakes his head, reaching for some part of Liam’s body to give a comforting touch. He lands on Liam’s elbow, though he’s not fully sure that the message of reassurance makes it through this grip. “One of these days,” he says meaningfully, “you’ll believe me when I tell you that you’re worth it.”

Liam averts his eyes quickly, casting his gaze down at the floor.

“Besides, it doesn’t change anything with Harry,” Louis insists, trying to convince the little voice inside his head of this, too. “We’re soulmates. So what if he won’t have the ink on his arm that proves it? That doesn’t make us any less meant for each other.”

Liam pauses, thinking over the words. Then, he gives Louis a look, eyes wide. “You realize that you have to tell him now, right? Before you remove the tattoo, I mean.”

Louis clamps his mouth shut. Liam is right, he knows. It’s not fair to Harry to let him go through with the soulmate tattoo removal without knowing that his soulmate has been under his nose all along. It’s certainly not fair that Louis has known this entire time and kept it quiet and especially since Louis will be the one performing the removal.

But on the other hand, Harry is currently content with the removal despite not knowing who his soulmate is. Although he is wrongfully under the impression that his soulmate is some stranger that he will never meet, is it so wrong to let him continue to think that?

“Yes,” Liam says flatly, and Louis realizes that he has voiced his thoughts aloud.

Louis sighs. “You’re right.”

“So you’ll tell him?” Liam pushes.

It makes Louis smile at his shoes, that Liam knows him well enough to prod further. He nods, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll tell him.”

His stomach churns to try to envision that conversation. After all, how do you go about telling someone that you’ve been hiding the fact that you are soulmates because you thought they wouldn’t want to hear it, but now you think they need to?

He can’t picture Harry’s reaction. Would he be angry? He imagines that version of Harry, his jaw clenched, his hands squeezed into fists, his green eyes dangerously piercing. Would he be sad? He can see that version of Harry, too, eyes filling with tears that he fights to keep from spilling over, lower lip trembling as he tries to speak. Would he be happy? He almost doesn’t dare picture that version of Harry, eyes bright with excitement, a smile wide on his lips as he pulls Louis into his arms and says, “I hoped it was you”.

“What if he’s mad?” Louis asks, feeling small.

Liam lifts a single shoulder in a shrug. “Then, he’s mad.”

Louis makes a face. “Gee, thanks.”

Liam laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s not about how he feels. His reaction will be valid no matter what it is, and you have no control over that. You’ll just have to hope for the best and be able to feel satisfied with yourself in that you did the right thing by telling him.”

“I know that I need to tell him,” Louis says, playing with his fingers absently. “I’m just so scared.”

“You never know,” Liam says, an optimistic smile looking woefully out of place on his cracked, swollen lips, “maybe he’ll surprise you.”

“Maybe,” Louis echoes, but the word sounds hollow even to his own ears. “Anyways, enough about me.”

Liam raises an eyebrow. “Well I certainly don’t want to talk about _me _right now.”

Louis winces. “I think we have to, Li. Just a little.”

Liam rolls his eyes up at the ceiling, saying in monotone, “Derrick came into the bathroom while I was showering, noticed my faded tattoo, and grabbed me. We fought for a while, but I managed to escape. And then I was scared to come home because that would be the first place he would look for me, so I hid out in an alley until I couldn’t take it anymore. And that brings us here.”

Louis tries and fails to keep the fretful expression off of his face. He knows Liam doesn’t want his pity, but he can’t help how the story tugs at his heart.

It doesn’t matter, though. Liam steadfastly keeps his gaze on the ceiling rather than looking at Louis.

“You did good, Li,” Louis says after a moment. “That was a really hard situation to be in, and you did really good.”

Liam finally lowers his gaze, meeting Louis’ eyes. His own eyes are watery, but he gives Louis a small smile. “Thanks.”

“I-” Louis starts to say but is interrupted by the chime of a text on his phone. He blinks and glances down at where it is laying on the floor next to him, his heart speeding up as he sees Harry’s contact on the screen.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 10:23 AM]

you’ve got a deal! come over anytime this afternoon and we can get him settled :)

Louis draws in a big breath of air as he reads, before letting out a long whoop. “He said yes!” he cheers to Liam, perhaps unnecessarily.

“Thank god,” Liam says, much more subdued but equally relieved. Somehow, now that the fear of not knowing what comes next has subsided, Louis suspects that the exhaustion of the past few days will catch up to him.

Sure enough, as Louis texts Harry back excitedly, Liam grows quiet. When Louis glances up at him again, he is laying peacefully on the desk with his eyes closed, though Louis doubts he has actually fallen asleep.

Niall returns shortly after that with an armful of breakfast food and a tray of everyone’s coffee orders. They tell him the good news, and immediately have to physically restrain him to stop him from going back out to buy celebratory pastries.

Louis had thought Niall bought more food than they could possibly finish, but Liam is evidently ravenous. He scarfs down a stack of flapjacks, some eggs and bacon, an entire breakfast burrito, and is tearing into his third muffin when Louis starts getting ready to take his shift.

They had talked it over while eating and agreed that Liam needed a disguise, plus some new clothes. It seems to be an inescapable fact that the police will likely search their apartment at some point soon, and Liam decided he would rather it looked as if he mysteriously disappeared than if he deliberately went into hiding. To fit this theory, they need to leave his belongings untouched, clothes and other essentials included.

So Louis hops into his car, types ‘thrift store’ into his GPS, and drives off.

The first store he tries seems to cater towards vintage styles, so there isn’t much that’s useful to him. Still, he manages to find Liam a fairly inexpensive utility jacket and some old-fashioned high-waisted pants.

The next store he goes to is more of what he had been looking for, a place that accepts donations of all sorts of clothes and sells them back at low cost for those in need. They have clothes of every size, color, material, and pattern that one could imagine. Louis makes quick work of each rack, searching first for Liam’s size and then checking the price. If it’s cheap, it goes in the pile to purchase, regardless of the pattern or print. In particular, there’s one pair of faux leather skinny jeans with the word “juicy” over the bum in hot pink capital letters that he’s sure Liam will give him hell for.

As he lines up to check out, he surveys the items in his arms one last time. There are a few questionable pieces that were such a good deal that he couldn’t pass them up, but overall he thinks Liam will be pleased with his new wardrobe. There are a couple of flannel shirts, some button-down short sleeves, denim jeans, and one pair of sneakers. He also picked out a variety of hats, figuring that headwear is one of the most useful clothing items for concealing one’s identity.

The cashier rings him up without blinking an eye at the selection of clothing, chatting away amiably about the weather, the upcoming weekend, and fashion trends. Louis smiles, nods, and pays, before he is on his way.

His next stop is a general department store, where he heads straight for the bulk items. He buys packs of plain white t-shirts, checkered boxers, and black socks. He also picks up some bathroom essentials like soap, a toothbrush, floss, and toothpaste. He pauses by Liam’s favorite brand of deodorant soap, which happens to be on sale, but decides it would be too risky considering their toiletry preferences have been published for the world to read. Store brand it is.

In a last-minute decision, he impulsively buys a large scarf on his way to check out as well as a pack of gum for himself while waiting in line.

Now happily chewing on a stick of spearmint, Louis makes a fun stop at the local party decorating store. Amongst the colored streamers and flurry of Christmas decorations, they have a small costume section. The wig selection is unfortunately lacking - that is, unless Liam would be willing to have neon colored hair. Louis contemplates a black mohawk for longer than Liam would like, before settling on the most realistic option: a blonde bowl cut.

The last place he goes is the grocery store. He doesn’t buy anything perishable because he isn’t sure when Liam will want to go over to Harry’s flat, but he does stock up on Liam’s favorite snacks. He gets cereal, crisps, and some sandwich and pasta materials, so that Liam will at least have something to eat if he’s hungry. Louis is sure that Harry won’t mind providing some food – after all, he’s employed as a chef and aren’t all chefs just looking for guinea pigs to try their recipes? – but he doesn’t want to assume and knows Liam wouldn’t want to either.

When he arrives back at the tattoo parlor, it looks just as deserted as it did before. Upon quickly letting himself inside, to his surprise he finds it to be just as silent as it looks like it would be from outside. A knot of worry begins to coil in his stomach, but when he opens the door to his office he finds Niall and Liam both fast asleep, sprawled out on his desk and the floor, respectively.

Niall jerks awake when the door opens, probably because Louis hit his leg with the door when he opened it.

“It’s not what you think it is!” he shouts, before blinking around in confusion at his surroundings. “Oh, hey. You’re back.”

Louis laughs, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. “That I am. Slept well, I take it?”

Niall blushes.

Liam lets out a snore. Louis and Niall both turn to look at him.

“Should we let him sleep?” Louis asks in a whisper, crouching down to join Niall on the floor.

“Maybe for a bit,” Niall says before adding sardonically, “Could’ve let me sleep, too.”

“Sorry,” Louis says softly, but Niall laughs a little and so he does too.

They don’t speak for a moment. Then, Niall reaches out to squeeze his upper arm. “You holding up okay? It’s been… quite the day.”

Louis bites his lip harshly, forcing a wry smile. “That’s an understatement,” he mutters.

He knows Niall means well and probably wants to try to help talk him through everything that his mind is reeling through - from Liam getting caught, kicked out, and nearly killed to Louis agreeing to remove his soulmate’s soulmate tattoo - but right now Louis is doing his best to actively avoid his problems. So, he changes the topic.

“Talk to me about Zayn.”

“About Zayn?”

“Yeah. Or, well, what it’s like to be with your soulmate for real.”

“Louis…”

“Tell me.”

Niall sighs. Worry fills his eyes, but there’s a resigned set to his lips which means he has factored in Louis’ stubbornness and knows he’ll make him answer eventually anyways. “Fine. I don’t know. That day you introduced us was probably the best day of my life.”

“Yeah?” Louis prods when Niall trails off, a somewhat dreamy look in his blue eyes.

“It feels right, you know? I’d been waiting and searching for so long. You start to reach the age where you see everyone else around you paired up, having found their soulmate already. Sure, there’s cases where soulmates don’t meet until much later in life, but there are also cases where something happens to one person before the two get to meet and… I dunno,” Niall shrugs, looking sheepish. “The longer the wait, the more real the possibility was that we wouldn’t ever meet.”

“I get that,” Louis tells him, because he does, and Niall looks in need of assurance. “I’m sure almost everyone has felt that way.”

“And for some people, it’s real,” Niall says quietly. He shakes his head. “Anyways, it was so unexpected and exciting when we met. He’s sweet, thoughtful, talented, kind, gorgeous… It almost feels too good to be true, sometimes.” 

“Good,” Louis says with a smile. He can’t think of anyone more deserving of a happy ending than Niall. Then, his curiosity kicks in. “Is it different being around him than other people?”

“Well, yeah,” Niall answers. “He’s my person, you know? It always makes me happy when I get to see him or spend time with him. When we’re together, I feel safe. Like nothing else really matters, not even the biggest problems.”

Louis cocks his head slightly to the side. It’s not the answer he had been expecting. He had thought Niall would say more about how different it is with a soulmate, like telling him about a magnetic pull he feels toward Zayn or how even the smallest of touches leaves a tingling sensation long after it’s gone. Maybe he would be more vague and say how it’s just special being with Zayn or how their relationship makes all of his previous experiences pale in comparison. Louis can’t help but think that Niall’s description sounds akin to what he might even say himself about his past relationships, with people who weren’t Harry.

Feeling safe, feeling happy, feeling relieved to be with someone… that doesn’t sound like the rush of electricity Louis feels zip through his bloodstream whenever Harry touches him. It doesn’t sound like the way his heart swells when just thinking about him. It doesn’t sound like the draw that Louis feels pulling him to Harry whenever they are in the same vicinity, and sometimes even when they are apart.

“It’s… more intense than being with anyone else though, right?” Louis asks after a moment, finally able to put his confusion into words. “Romantically, I mean. Or physically. Whatever.”

“Lou, you’re one of my best mates, but you’re also my boss. We’re not talking about what it’s like physically,” Niall says. His expression is mostly serious, but the mischievous twinkle in his eyes gives him away.

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis grumbles, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t want the details of your sex life, Horan. I just mean… compared to your previous partners, it’s better with Zayn, right?”

Niall laughs, giving Louis’ shoulder a squeeze to assure him that he was joking. Then, he replies, “Yeah, of course. He’s my soulmate.”

It’s a simple answer, and one that should fully satisfy Louis. But it doesn’t sit quite right with him still. If someone were to ask him the same thing, he’d be raving about how much better everything is with your soulmate. Even the slightest of touches have a striking sensation, and don’t even get him started on sexual touches.

But before he can press Niall further, Liam mutters from the table, “What a conversation to wake up to.”

Niall laughs.

Louis shrugs. “I was just curious. He’s the only one of us with a functional relationship with his soulmate, after all.”

“While on the other hand, our soulmates will probably land us in jail,” Liam says wryly. “Sounds like we got the short end of the stick, if you ask me.”

It’s hard to argue with that logic, so Louis doesn’t. “Speaking of,” he says instead, “are you ready to go?”

Liam nods. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

-

“What the-?” Mitch gapes at them as he opens the door.

“Jesus Christ,” Harry says, his head poking over Mitch’s shoulder.

It’s an understandable reaction to the three men standing at their doorstep. Niall’s arms are laden with non-perishable foods, a Tetris game of cereal and cracker boxes balancing precariously in his hold. Liam is next to him, wearing the blonde bowl cut wig, a pink crop top, high-waisted striped pants, and Louis’ sunglasses. Louis stands to his left, his black eye puffy, bruised, and fully on display after having loaned said sunglasses to Liam, his arms full with bags of mostly outrageous clothing.

After a long moment in which Mitch and Harry continue to stare at them, Louis explains tiredly, “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s not even three,” Mitch says, glancing at his watch.

“I said what I said,” Louis mutters. “Can we come in?”

“Oh! Right, of course.” Harry steps back, tugging Mitch out of the way as well.

Liam goes first, followed closely by Louis, and finally Niall, who is forced to walk in slow, even steps to balance the heap of food he is carrying.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Liam says politely, extending a hand towards Harry, “and thank you for doing this.”

“Hold up,” Louis cuts in before Harry can return the greeting. He looks back and forth in bewilderment between Harry and Liam, arguably the two most important people in his life. “You haven’t _met_ yet?”

“Well, we never ran into each other at BJ’s,” Harry says. Louis cringes a little at the acronym.

“I missed the grand opening because of Derrick… and probably a couple of other times where we otherwise would have met, too,” Liam adds.

“And you brought me along instead of him when we broke into city hall,” Niall adds in.

“Huh,” Louis shakes his head in disbelief, but shrugs and motions for the two to get closer together. “I guess it’s about damn time then.”

While Harry and Liam officially introduce themselves, Mitch pulls Louis aside. Niall steps carefully past them and towards the kitchen, presumably to set down the supplies they had brought for Liam.

“Listen,” Mitch says quietly, as if he doesn’t want to be overheard, “I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot before.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, recalling Mitch’s colourful threats towards him. “Might have, yeah.”

Mitch grimaces. “I’m very protective of Harry. He’s basically setting himself up for heartbreak, and I was just trying to make sure he didn’t actually get hurt.”

Louis glances over at Harry, who seems to be genuinely and enthusiastically complimenting Liam’s trousers. “I know,” he tells Mitch. “I understand where you’re coming from.”

“Good,” Mitch says, his lips forming a tentative smile. “And thank you. Not only did you not hurt him, but what you’re doing for him in return for this… we were starting to think it was impossible.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis falters, not sure how to respond. After a moment’s hesitation, he settles on saying, “This is a pretty huge favour you both are doing for me, too.”

Mitch nods. “I was wrong about you, Louis, and I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

Again, Louis is at a loss for words. After all, Mitch might not feel this way if Harry reacts badly when Louis tells him that they are soulmates.

Fortunately, Liam sweeps in to introduce himself at that moment, saving Louis from having to respond.

A hand grips Louis’ arm, gently pulling him away from Liam and Mitch. “Hey,” Harry says, guiding him a little farther from the entryway for some privacy. He studies Louis’ face for a moment, his other hand coming up to brush softly over his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I think Mitch might not hate me anymore,” Louis blurts. It’s not the answer to Harry’s question, but it’s what’s on his mind.

Harry cracks a smile, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “Don’t be fooled. He’s just glad because we had to get rid of all of the pumpkins to make room for Liam.”

Louis chuckles. “You know, it does look _completely_ different in here without them. I can see your carpet now.”

Harry grins for a moment before his expression returns to looking serious, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Hey, you didn’t answer my question. What happened to you?”

Louis bites his lip, feeling sheepish. “I picked a fight with Liam’s soulmate.”

Harry’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression hardening. Still, his touch at Louis’ cheek and waist are as gentle as ever. “That’s who did this to you? Liam’s soulmate?”

Louis nods. “I’m okay, though. It was my fault, really. Liam hadn’t come home for days so I went to go confront his soulmate and he was furious.”

“Furious or not, he has no right to hurt you,” Harry says seriously. “He can take out his anger on Liam because they are soulmates – which is bullshit anyways – but even with our fucked-up laws, he has no right to lay a finger on you.”

“And I have no right to _remove his soulmate’s mark_,” Louis reminds Harry with a wry smile.

Harry sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m touched that you’re worried, I really am,” Louis says honestly. His heart has been fluttering at Harry’s concern since he first pulled him aside. “But I’m fine. It’ll heal up.”

“Okay,” Harry says reluctantly, leaning in to rest his forehead against Louis’, “if you say so.”

It’s a tender moment, being so close to Harry like this. For the first time all day, Louis feels like he can finally let his guard down. He feels safe and protected, and he almost believes that everything will be okay. Maybe Niall was onto something with his description of Zayn.

Louis blinks up at Harry, his eyelashes nearly brushing the other boy’s cheekbones. Their eyes meet, Harry’s gaze full of meaning and care. Suddenly, another unexpected feeling overtakes Louis. He feels brave.

Harry needs to know. Harry should have been told weeks ago. How can Louis let Harry hold him like this, care for him like this, all while he is hiding something so huge from him?

“Harry,” Louis says urgently, pulling back slightly to be able to see his expression, “I need to tell you something.”

_I’m your soulmate_, Louis thinks. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest. It doesn’t matter if it’s the right moment or not. If he keeps waiting for a good time, the time will never come. “I-”

“Harry?” Mitch calls from somewhere else in the apartment. “Do you know where a spare towel would be?”

Louis cuts himself off at the interruption, his mouth still open from stopping midsentence.

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes with a wince before turning to yell back, “The cabinet by the bathroom!”

Louis clears his throat, his courage fading fast. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, causing blood to rush to his ears. He is so caught up in his nerves and the anticipation for this moment that now he doesn’t know if he can go through with it.

“Sorry about that,” Harry apologizes again. He looks expectant, eager, and entirely unprepared for the news that Louis is about to deliver. “You were saying?”

“Er, no problem,” Louis says, steeling himself to try again. “I was saying, uh, that I… am-”

“It’s not there, H! Can you help me find one?” Mitch shouts, interrupting Louis yet again.

Louis winces, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as he tries to not be frustrated with Mitch and also not to lose his resolve to tell Harry.

“Just a sec!” Harry calls out, before turning back to Louis, more apologies written on his face. “What were you going to say?”

Louis opens his mouth, then closes it. He swallows hard. He can’t do it.

This isn’t the sort of thing that they can have a quick, easy chat about before Harry has to go find a towel for Liam. It’s a long, heart-to-heart type of conversation, one that could take hours and result in broken hearts.

Louis shakes his head, letting his bravery wilt away. “It can wait,” he assures Harry. “Go help Mitch.”

Harry takes a step backwards, a grateful smile on his lips. Still, his hands don’t let go of Louis’ just yet. “Are you sure? It seemed important.”

Louis returns Harry’s searching gaze with a forced smile. “It is,” he admits, “but don’t worry. I’m sure.”

After all, he has waited this long to tell Harry already. What difference does it make if he waits a little longer?

Harry seems satisfied with this answer, nodding and squeezing Louis’ hands before he lets go and heads towards the bathroom.

Once he is out of sight, Louis lets out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He slumps back against the wall, waiting for his heart to return to beating normally.

It takes a minute or two, after which Louis finds himself feeling oddly out of place, standing alone in the living room while Harry and Mitch make Liam feel at home. He wonders if Niall feels the same, walking over to the kitchen to find him.

“Hey, mate,” Niall greets him cheerfully as he pokes his head in. “How’s it going?”

Louis feels instantly more calm in the presence of Niall’s easygoing attitude.

There is a counter island in the middle of the kitchen, next to which Niall is sat on the floor, building a fairly impressive pyramid out of crisp and cereal boxes. Given that the boxes are varying sizes, Louis is surprised at how structurally sound it appears to be.

“Alright, I suppose. Forgot to buy Liam a towel,” Louis tells him. “And for you?”

“Found my calling in grocery construction,” Niall jokes. After Louis chuckles, he adds more seriously, “I was going to come talk to you, but you seemed to be having an intimate talk with a certain someone…”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You can say ‘Harry,’ it’s no secret who I was talking to.”

Niall shrugs. “You never know.”

“I almost told him,” Louis says, a stab of regret piercing him. “I was really close.”

Niall is the definition of surprised, his eyes wide and his mouth forming a small circle. “Really? You were actually going to do it?”

Louis shoves his shoulder, nearly sending him careening into his carefully crafted pyramid. “It’s not so hard to believe, is it?”

Niall pulls a dubious face. “Well… you have been meaning to have this talk for a long time.”

“Fine, fair enough,” Louis says, running a hand through his hair. “But I was actually going to do it this time.”

Niall is grinning widely at him when Louis glances over. “I’m proud of you, then. I know it didn’t quite work out, but you’re making the effort. The time will come soon enough.”

Louis sighs impatiently, but nods. “Thanks, Niall. If there’s a chance for me to talk to Harry privately for a bit before we leave, I’ll tell him then.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Niall promises. “I’m sure it won’t be difficult for you to get some time with him alone, anyways. You’re acting so much like lovebirds, I think all the rest of us want is to give you some space.”

“Well, good,” Louis laughs, lifting one shoulder carelessly at Niall, unapologetic for his and Harry’s behaviour.

-

As it turns out, it is surprisingly difficult to get Harry alone again that day.

Harry and Mitch’s two-bedroom flat is significantly more spacious than the last time Louis had come to see it – back when it was teeming with carved pumpkins – but it still isn’t particularly large. It’s plenty of space for two people and even a decent amount for three, but with the number of occupants cranked up to five, there seems to always be someone within earshot of Louis and Harry.

Plus, now that Louis has told Harry their talk could wait, Harry seems to have shifted his priorities to get Liam settled first. He and Mitch bustle around the flat doing all sorts of things to make sure Liam feels at home. As Liam’s best mate, Louis appreciates it beyond words. As Harry’s soulmate who needs to tell him as much, Louis appreciates it far less.

Harry and Mitch root around in their storage cabinets to find clean sheets and blankets to set up over the living room couch. Then, realizing that Liam won’t have much privacy, they embark on a mission to set up a makeshift divider by hanging another sheet as a curtain around Liam’s new bed. They take Liam on a tour of the apartment, making sure he knows where he can find extra toilet paper, hand soap, laundry detergent, and anything else he might possibly need. They even do a tour of the kitchen, explaining what foods are communal, where to find utensils and dishes, and how the various appliances work. (To their credit, during the tour of the kitchen neither Harry nor Mitch bats an eye at the vaguely Egyptian stack of cereal next to their counter.)

Niall, bless him, does his best to try to ask questions that will involve Mitch and Liam, but somehow Harry is always right by their side, chiming in helpfully.

After all of this, it seems that Liam is officially moved in. Louis and Niall linger a bit longer, but now that the living room has been converted to Liam’s room and the couch has become Liam’s bed, there doesn’t really seem to be a place for them to hang out besides standing awkwardly next to some wall or another.

To top it off, Liam looks thoroughly exhausted and Harry is checking his watch to make sure he won’t be late for the evening shift at the restaurant.

All in all, it seems pretty clear to Louis and Niall that they have overstayed their welcome.

“I guess we ought to get going?” Louis says, his voice rising at the to make it a question.

Niall nods, looking relieved that he has decided to call it a day. His last attempt to draw Liam and Mitch away from Harry had resulted in a long tangent about the various different TV’s that had been used in this flat, a conversation that Harry had enthusiastically participated in and Niall had looked horrifically bored by. “Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, already striding towards the door, “we’ll head out.”

Louis turns to Liam, giving him a small smile. “Doesn’t feel right,” he admits, “going home without you.”

Liam doesn’t reply, and when he meets Louis’ gaze, his eyes are watery again. He grabs Louis by his biceps and hauls him in for a hug, squeezing tight. “Thank you,” he whispers, sounding choked up.

Louis can’t exactly hug him back given how Liam has his arms wrapped so tightly around Louis’ own, but he leans his head in to nudge it against Liam’s affectionately, murmuring, “Of course.”

After Liam lets go, they hold eye contact with each other for a moment, the channel of their gaze communicating more than words possibly could. Louis nods firmly, squeezing Liam’s forearm softly. “One of these days, Payne,” he tells him, the words reminiscent of his earlier conversation with Liam. _One of these days, you’ll believe me when I tell you that you’re worth it._

Liam blushes, shrugging bashfully, and Louis smiles, knowing that means Liam understands what he is referring to.

“Look, you can come visit any time,” Mitch says, looking rather judgmental of their emotional exchange.

“It’ll look suspicious if we visit too often,” Niall points out, coming to Louis’ defense.

“Actually…” Harry says slowly, a smile spreading on his face, “it might not.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, looking at Harry expectantly. “And why not?”

“Because,” Harry says simply, “we’re dating, aren’t we?”

Louis blinks as the realization hits him. “You’re a genius, Harry. It’s the perfect cover. And it’s not even false.”

“I don’t follow,” Niall says, looking between Louis and Harry in confusion.

“It’s not weird if I come over to see Liam, because it will just look like I’m here for Harry,” Louis explains. “To take him out to dinner or a movie or something.”

“Or have a night in,” Harry adds suggestively, waggling his eyebrows.

Liam groans in faux dismay. “You’re telling me that even though I’ve moved out, I can’t escape the sounds of you two having sex?”

They all laugh, and Louis flips him off good-naturedly.

In the relative quiet that follows, Louis turns to Niall and asks, “Shall we?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Niall mutters under his breath, so only Louis can hear.

Louis grins. “See you around then?” he asks the others hopefully.

Harry steps forward, taking Louis’ hand in his own to pull him in for a quick kiss.

When they pull apart, Louis glimpses Niall rolling his eyes, Mitch miming gagging, and Liam staring fixedly at the floor. It makes him laugh, so grabs Harry’s shirt to keep him from pulling away and kisses him once more.

He nearly does it again when they break apart, but Niall loops his arm through Louis’ and yanks him towards the door, calling out their goodbyes.

-

“I can’t believe dating Harry is actually _helping_ your cover,” Niall says as they traipse down the six flights of stairs from Harry’s flat.

“Right?” Louis agrees excitedly, just a few steps behind him. “After all of our analyzing determined that it was strictly a bad idea for me to even interact with Harry... now the fact that I went against all sensible advice is saving the day.”

“Well, don’t take that away from this as a life lesson or anything,” Niall says. “I’m pretty sure that’s usually not how these things work out.”

“Fair enough,” Louis concedes. “And after all, we still are in quite the situation.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Niall laughs. “Your anti-soulmate soulmate is hiding your fugitive roommate who you could be thrown in jail for helping… and yet dating your anti-soulmate soulmate is good for your cover because it gives you an excuse come visit said roommate and also perform the same removal on said soulmate. Jesus.”

“Well, when you put it like _that_,” Louis winces. “Also, don’t talk about it so loudly. Someone might hear.”

“Sorry,” Niall says in a whisper. His voice is still low when he adds, “Hey, that gives me an idea. We could make sweatshirts. You know, like the anti-social social club? The anti-soulmate soulmate club.”

“Sure,” Louis says sarcastically, “let’s add anti-soulmate propaganda to the mix.”

“I don’t think sweatshirts count as propaganda,” Niall says reasonably. “It’s more like… merch.”

“No.”

“We could sell it at the parlor. Pretty much all of our remaining customers think you’re a conspirator anyways.”

“Well… maybe. I’ll think about it. Hey, do you think it’s awkward for Liam right now?”

“Nah,” Niall shakes his head. “Liam’s good at small talk. They’ll be fine.”

“Do you think he’ll be safe there?”

“Yeah, I do. They’ll probably get a warrant to search your place and maybe even the parlor. But they need ‘probable cause’ to get one, and there’s no reason for them to be snooping at Harry’s place.”

Dating a cop is rubbing off on Niall, it seems.

“Do you think Liam will like staying there?”

“I think Liam likes not being in jail, so yes.”

“But do you think-”

“I think we should have taken the lift,” Niall interrupts as they reach another landing, pausing to catch his breath, “and that you need to stop worrying.”

Louis can’t argue with that.

When they reach the ground floor, Niall pauses where they would otherwise go their separate ways to their respective cars. “Did you want to get coffee?” he asks.

Louis tilts his head to the side. “We had coffee earlier.”

“Oh, right. Grab a snack, then?”

Louis narrows his eyes at Niall suspiciously. “Why?”

Niall shakes his head, shrugging. “No reason, just want something to eat.”

“Or some caffeine?” Louis adds, raising his eyebrows. “You’re up to something, and I know it. Why?”

Niall gives in. “I just thought that maybe you didn’t want to be alone right now.”

“Oh,” Louis says, touched. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

“Well?” Niall prompts, motioning towards his car. “Are you down?”

“I…” Louis hesitates. It’s a nice offer, but frankly going home and laying in bed sounds even more appealing.

“We don’t have to,” Niall says kindly.

“I kind of just want to go home,” Louis admits.

“Okay,” Niall says easily, turning towards his car. “Shoot me a text if you need anything, alright?”

“Well… there is one thing,” Louis says slowly. He shifts his weight, wondering if this is too much to ask.

“Yeah, what is it?” Niall asks, spinning back around to face Louis again. He looks keen to help, his blue eyes eager.

“I don’t know if this is overstepping,” Louis starts.

“Lou, I think we passed that point when we broke into City Hall together.”

“Well, okay. Good point. I just…” Louis pauses, then blurts out before he loses his nerve, “I was wondering if it’d be possible for Zayn to help in any way.”

Niall chuckles. “Who knew you’d be trying to get us _all_ to break the law, huh?”

Louis blanches, opening his mouth to backtrack.

“I’m messing with you,” Niall assures him before he can think of what to say. “Relax. I thought of that, too. I’ll talk with him, but I’m not sure how much he’s willing to do, especially since he doesn’t know about you and Harry being soulmates. It’s probably best not to tell him about the removals still, but he can probably at least pass along info about how the case against Liam is coming.”

Louis nods, breathing a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Niall.”

“Yeah, I know,” Niall agrees jokingly. “But, hey, try to unwind a bit tonight if you can, yeah? I know things are crazy right now, but it might actually be okay.”

“What comforting words,” Louis mutters dryly. “It might actually be okay.”

Niall shrugs, giving him a wave and walking over to his car. “It’s the truth.”

Louis waves back. He wonders about it on his drive home, whether things might actually be okay. He hopes they will be.

When he gets home, he finds a note that someone has slid under the door. It reads:

_We need to talk. I know what you did. If you tell anyone about this, you’ll regret it._

It’s sloppily handwritten, but Louis doesn’t recognize the penmanship. Following the disconcerting message is a time and place – tomorrow evening at a local coffee shop.

Louis gulps. It seems like things might actually not be okay after all.


	8. lights up and they know who you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which louis finally tells harry that they are soulmates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternately summarized as: in which the author attempts to cause you to feel a great deal of pain and emotion. let me know how I did in the comments?

Louis jolts awake, jerking into a sitting position and breathing hard as he reacquaints himself with his surroundings. His room is dark but familiar, the only thing out of place being his duvet, now in a heap on the floor. Louis grabs for it, tugging it back onto the bed with him. Despite being sweaty, he bundles himself up in it for comfort, feeling shaken after waking up mid-dream.

Because that’s what it was, he reminds himself. Just a dream.

It had felt so real, though: the tattoo removal laser heavy in his hand; its whirring sound echoing in his ears; the ship on Harry’s arm fading away in front of his eyes.

Louis shudders, shaking his head to try to clear it. He doesn’t want to think about removing Harry’s soulmate tattoo.

And yet, as he closes his eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep, it’s all he can picture. Harry, a bright smile on his face, an eager look in his eyes, the definition of a boy whose wildest dreams are about to come true. Harry, wearing a short sleeve shirt with one side rolled up to fully reveal the intricate ship inked on his upper arm. Harry, his soulmate, the person he is destined to be with, eagerly waiting for Louis to sever the link between them, to erase the proof that they are meant to be.

Louis groans, blinking his eyes back open and fixing the ceiling with a venomous glare. He shoves the duvet off and rolls out of bed, the wooden floor cold against his bare feet. The flat is quiet as he pads into the kitchen for a glass of water. Or warm milk with honey. Or hot tea. He hasn’t decided yet.

The quiet is unsettling, even though it’s natural for the flat to be silent at this hour of the night. It’s just that ever since Liam first disappeared, Louis has been the only one making any sounds. There’s no humming of Liam’s dehumidifier before he sleeps, no clanging of pans in the kitchen as he makes his breakfast, no satisfied sighs when he drinks his morning coffee. There’s no yelled greeting when Louis gets home in the evening, no background narration from Liam’s boring, beloved documentaries on TV, no screamed renditions of the top 40 pop songs from the shower.

It’s lonely.

Louis puts a pot of water on the stove and swings open the cupboard, eyeing his go-to Yorkshire tea. Nothing sounds better, but he knows that if drinks it, the caffeine will probably keep him up for at least another hour. Next to the box of Yorkshire is ‘sweet dreams chamomile’ tea, which must belong to Liam. Louis would never buy such a thing.

Louis reads the box, which boasts a blend of ‘blend of chamomile, hibiscus, peppermint leaves, rose blossoms, spearmint leaves, and orange blossoms’. It sounds like a lot, frankly. But it also states that it is caffeine-free, which is really what Louis is looking for right now. With a sigh, he takes out one of the tea bags and fixes himself a cup.

After letting it steep, he removes the tea bag and takes a sip. It’s terrible. Not quite disgusting, but certainly not enjoyable either.

He can’t help but think about how if Liam were here, sleeping in the next room like he ought to be, Louis would tell him about this the next morning. He would thank him for the much-needed relaxing drink while simultaneously roasting him for owning this sad excuse for “tea”, more of a shitty mix of every soothing scent known to man.

The thought makes Louis smile into his cup. He misses Liam.

But Louis supposes he can’t complain. After all, at least now he has the comfort of knowing that Liam is safe, probably fast asleep on the couch in Mitch and Harry’s flat. It helps, knowing that.

Louis makes a face as he takes another sip, wanting to dump the cup’s contents in the sink. Instead, he ends up forcing himself to finish it.

It works, Louis will give it that. When he crawls back into bed, he falls back asleep without trouble, though the dreams of Harry and his tattoo continue to plague him throughout the night.

-

Louis wakes up the next morning to the blaring of his alarm. He groans, his mind still foggy with sleep. Urged by the obnoxious beeping, he slaps a hand around on the nightstand until he successfully finds his phone, then jabs his finger around on the screen until he finds the home button which will stop it.

Five minutes later, this repeats.

After shutting off his second alarm, Louis swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up. He rubs his eyes tiredly, forcing himself to stand and shuffle into the kitchen.

Now that his phone has been silenced, the entire flat is silent, too. The loudest noise around him is the sound of his own feet dragging along the wooden floor.

The kitchen feels empty without Liam sitting at the table. The pan that Liam uses to make his usual egg breakfast is pristine and untouched. On the other hand, there’s a tall stack of dirty bowls in the sink from Louis’ daily cereal. He takes a clean bowl out of the cupboard, soon to join the others.

Sitting down at the table himself, Louis eyes the growing collection of newspapers piled there. Liam gets them sent in the mail, and typically reads the previous day’s news as he eats his breakfast or has morning coffee. Liam admits it’s worse for the environment than using his phone or laptop to read it online, but he was never able to get past how much he enjoys the feeling of real paper in his hands.

“So sue me,” Liam used to say whenever Louis would complain about it. (Mostly, he would complain because if they didn’t check the mail everyday it got to be too thick to fit in their little designated mailbox and the mailman would start leaving their new mail in a free-for-all pile to the side. But, the environment is important, too, and a much more valid reason to Liam than Louis’ laziness.) “I like physical paper. I’ll reuse it and then recycle it anyway. Plus, I do all the other environmentally conscious things. You know, like conserving water, using a reusable bottle, and not drinking from plastic straws. Give me this _one_ thing.”

Louis could never argue with that, especially since he wasn’t particularly good at the other things Liam would list. He is prone to taking long showers (that’s where his best ideas happen, after all), forgetting his reusable bottle (or forgetting to wash it), and hating the texture of eco-friendly straws (the cardboard ones get soggy and gross).

Anyways, point being there’s an increasing stack of newspapers that remind Louis of Liam. He doesn’t know whether Liam would want him to save them for when he gets back, bring them to him, or throw them out – well, recycle them.

He can’t text Liam to ask because they had decided it would be too dangerous to be in contact since the police could pull his phone history. Phone records between them would cause any lies Louis might tell about not knowing Liam’s whereabouts to immediately crumble.

It’s hard, deliberately distancing himself from Liam. They have been roommates for years, and best mates for even longer. Louis doesn’t remember ever feeling distant from Liam before this.

It’s odd to Louis that the feeling of loneliness in his bones weighs heavier now. After all, at least he knows where Liam is. But it seems now that Louis’ mind isn’t preoccupied with worry for Liam’s wellbeing, the gaping hole of Liam’s absence is more prominent and painful.

He averts his eyes from the newspapers, distracting himself by aimlessly scrolling through Twitter. There are some funny posts, but nothing that really sticks out to him. Louis sighs, finishes his cereal, and adds his bowl to the stack in the sink.

-

Niall is already seated behind the front desk when Louis walks into the parlor, fifteen minutes before their official opening time. Usually, Louis is right on time or running five minutes late. He had no idea Niall would even be here this early, seeing as he’s never made it at this time before himself.

Niall looks up in surprise as the bell above the door announces Louis’ entry, a cheerful smile on his face. Louis forces his lips to turn upwards in return, but apparently it isn’t a passable smile - when Niall sweeps a cursory glance over him, his sunny expression dims.

Louis winces. He didn’t mean to cause Niall’s good spirits to fade. But it’s too late for that. Niall’s bright expression has disappeared, only to be replaced by an all-too-familiar look of concern.

Louis tries to think of something optimistic to say, something that might cheer them both up. He comes up blank.

So Niall is the one who speaks first. “You’re early,” he says. He sounds tentative, like Louis is an unpredictable cornered animal that he isn’t sure how to approach.

“Yeah, uh,” Louis shrugs, “it was too quiet this morning.”

Niall’s lips tug downward pityingly and Louis cringes, mentally kicking himself. But what else was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t sleep because of nightmares about Harry? That he can’t stand being in the flat alone because Liam’s absence is depressing? That he was dreading today and figured he might as well just get it over with? It’s all true, and Louis is pretty sure if he said any of that, Niall would be even more dismayed.

“Sorry,” Louis rubs the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly, “I didn’t mean it like that. Uh, I just… you know, it’s just me. So I got going early.”

“Right, well…” Niall presses his lips together, looking unconvinced. Fortunately, he nods and changes the topic. “I got you coffee,” he says, pushing a cardboard cup across the desk away from himself.

Louis blinks, looking at the coffee cup and then back at Niall. “You did?”

There’s only one coffee, and it had been quite close to Niall until a moment ago.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall waves a hand dismissively, “I swung by that new hipster cafe on the way here. Figured I’d get you a drink, too.”

He’s lying, Louis is almost sure of it. “Where’s yours then?”

“Drank it already,” Niall replies smoothly. Then, less smoothly, “Just take the damn coffee, Lou.”

Louis gives in, picking up the cup and taking a sip. It’s sweet, creamy, and tastes of almonds. “Mmm, almond milk latte,” Louis hums appreciatively, teasing because he knows that it’s Niall’s go-to order, “my favourite.”

“Knew it,” Niall jokes. He smiles sheepishly at Louis.

Louis smiles back. This time, he thinks it reaches his eyes.

-

It’s a slow day at the parlor, which leaves Louis alone with his thoughts for longer than he would like. He tries to keep his brain otherwise occupied by tidying up the back area, practicing some tattoos on fruit, and sketching out some new design ideas. To his frustration, all of his creative thoughts seem to be linked to Harry, who he is trying not to think about right now. He catches himself first drawing floral patterns that remind him of Harry’s shirts, and later mindlessly sketching out a ship, not dissimilar from Harry’s soulmate tattoo.

“Jesus,” Louis mutters to himself as he looks down at the sketch of a boat in front of him. Objectively, it’s a fairly good drawing, especially since Louis hadn’t been using a reference picture. But Louis knows it was inspired by Harry and so he would never have the heart to suggest tattooing it on someone.

He crumples the paper in his fist and tosses it onto the floor. Liam’s voice echoes in his head, reminding him to recycle.

It’s too much.

Louis groans, annoyed, and stands up abruptly. He grabs his sketches and goes to join Niall in the front. Maybe sitting with his friend will help take his mind off soulmates and spark some creativity. At the very least, it should help him feel less alone.

Niall has been making the most of the day, using it to get some songwriting done. Louis could hear him humming quietly and testing out different chords on his guitar even from the back. He didn’t mind though, of course. If anything, it was a welcome distraction.

When he reaches the front of the parlor, he finds Niall sitting with his feet propped up on the desk, his guitar in his lap. He is plucking absently at the strings with one hand while scribbling something down on a paper in front of him with the other.

“Hey,” Louis says softly, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Nah, of course not,” Niall assures him, finishing what he was jotting down. “You can help, even. Tell me what you think of this.”

“Sure,” Louis says, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders fade away. He drags one of the chairs intended for waiting customers over to Niall’s desk and takes a seat as Niall starts strumming.

“Looking back through changes, where we started from,” Niall sings slowly, his voice soft yet strong. “Don't know about, you but I, knew it wasn't wrong. You know I kept a place for you in my mind; and I know you did the same, 'cause you're just that kind.”

Louis feels himself staring at Niall in awe as Niall turns his attention to his guitar, playing the strings with increasing vigor and ramps up the song.

Accompanying the guitar, he belts out, “So if we knew all along, why did it take so long?” He repeats that line again a few times before stopping abruptly, slapping a hand over his guitar to stop the strings’ residual humming. “I’ve still got a bit of work to do for the chorus, but,” he shrugs, then resumes his playing, humming the tune passionately.

Louis can hear Niall’s idea for the melody of the song through his humming, and he loves it.

After a while, Niall lets his humming fade out, strumming on the guitar for a bit longer before stopping that as well. “Anyways,” he says, pursing one side of his lips thoughtfully, “that’s what I have so far for the tune. I’m working on trying to find some lyrics to fit it right now.”

Louis shakes his head in wonder, amazed. “Niall,” he says enthusiastically, his spirits having lifted just at hearing Niall’s work in progress, “that was incredible. Believe me, once you get it all figured out, it’s going to be a smash hit.”

Niall’s cheeks go a little red. “Thanks, Lou. That means a lot. I don’t know if I want it to be a smash hit, though. It’s just… for me, you know?”

Louis nods. “I get that. It’s going to be a beautiful ballad either way. Thanks for sharing it with me, then.”

“Of course, mate,” Niall beams. He lifts his chin towards the pile of sketches that Louis had set down on the desk. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh,” Louis glances down at the papers, sifting through them critically. “Just some doodles, really. I was trying to come up with some designs to add to our pamphlet of inspirations for what to get tattooed.”

“I like that one,” Niall says, craning his neck and turning his head to get a better angle.

Louis looks down where Niall is pointing before rotating the paper around so that he can see it right-side up. It’s a drawing of a hand, long fingers outstretched towards something out of reach. Around it are the words: “I’ve been close enough to touch, but I never cared for love”.

“Yeah,” Niall says, bobbing his head as he takes a closer look. “That’s really good. I bet someone would want that tattooed. I’ll convince the next customer myself.”

Louis laughs, shrugging. He had thought it was a bit too sad, but he supposes Niall might be right. They get plenty of customers looking for deep, emotional quotes and images. “If you say so, I guess.”

Niall grins.

After that, they settle in working together, Louis continuing to sketch design ideas and Niall drafting the lyrics to his song. Every now and then one of them will ask the other for an opinion, but mostly they work on their respective projects alone.

No one comes into the shop all morning, but they do get a couple of calls.

Whenever the phone rings, Louis’ stomach drops and he grips his pencil so tightly that his knuckles turn white while he waits for Niall to answer. _It’s the cops_, he thinks to himself every time. Surely they’ll be calling soon after all, to interrogate their parlor about Liam’s tattoo.

Then, Niall will cheerfully respond and Louis will realize that it’s actually just a customer asking a question or booking an appointment, not the call from the police that Louis fears.

The phone rings again just as Niall is preparing to take his lunch break, stowing his guitar and stacking his papers of drafted lyrics at the corner of his desk.

“Tommo’s Tattoos, this is Niall speaking. How can I help you?”

Louis swallows hard, his heartbeat thundering increasingly loud in his ribcage as Niall listens to whoever is on the other end of the line. It’s probably just another customer, he tells himself. Nothing to worry about. And yet, he feels the wood of his pencil bowing in his hand as if it is about to snap in half.

“Sure,” Niall chirps, “we have plenty of availability on Friday. Is there a time of day that works best for you?”

Louis exhales in relief, letting his eyes fall shut and his grip on his pencil slacken. Just another customer, he tells himself. Nothing to worry about.

Niall finishes scheduling an afternoon appointment with whoever is on the phone, thanking them and wishing them a great rest of their day. Then, he pats at his pockets, presumably checking for his phone and wallet. “Want to come to lunch with me and Z?” he asks Louis with an easy smile. “We can put up a sign that we’re out for a lunch hour. At the rate things are going today, I doubt anyone will come anyways.”

It’s a nice offer, and one that Louis’ truly appreciates. But he doesn’t feel particularly social right now, nor particularly inclined to third wheel on Niall’s lunch date.

“Nah, but thanks anyways. Another time, yeah? I’ll just hang out here,” Louis says, forcing a smile that he thinks is actually passable.

Niall squints at him, then shrugs. “Alright. Well, hey, I’ll bring you a sandwich if you let me charge it to the company card.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “As if you weren’t already going to charge it to the company card.”

“None of the individual items will be over ten pounds,” Niall promises with a sharp grin, before waving goodbye and heading out.

The bell over the door jangles to signal his departure.

Louis chuckles to himself in the silence that follows, shaking his head fondly.

Without Niall around, Louis finds himself feeling antsy again. It’s too quiet in the tattoo parlor, leaving too much room for Louis’ thoughts to spiral.

Louis rubs his temples with his fingers. There’s just so much to be anxious about right now, from Liam’s wellbeing to how to tell Harry that they are soulmates to his ominous meeting tonight with whoever sent him that note. Louis forces himself to take a deep breath, drawing it in slowly and counting to ten before releasing it.

It helps, but not much. The silence is stifling.

_Music_, Louis thinks. That’s what he needs. Usually, Niall has an endless stream of songs playing in the background at all times for musical inspiration, but he had shut it off earlier today to focus on his lyrics.

Louis goes over to the computer, pulling up Spotify and browsing through the playlist options. Niall’s playlist titles are absolutely meaningless to Louis, which makes it tough to tell what he usually plays in the parlor. Louis skips past one called ‘get it on’ which he is worried might be Niall’s sex playlist, but is then baffled as he realizes his other options include ‘get it up,’ ‘get it going,’ and ‘get down,’ and ‘get it’. Louis makes a face at the screen and clicks away to Spotify’s generic premade playlists, choosing the one called ‘Mood Booster’. That’s probably what he needs right now, after all.

Just as music begins to play through the speakers, freeing Louis from the unbearable quiet, another sound blares out. It’s the parlor’s phone, the standard ring more jarring than Louis thought possible. He jumps a little, his eyes locked on the phone.

He shouldn’t be scared to pick it up, and yet he is.

Louis takes a moment to compose himself before reaching for the phone. It’s his tattoo parlor, after all. He should be able to do this. (Though no one would know if he let it go to voicemail. Perhaps they’re out to lunch, like Niall had suggested).

Then, Louis freezes, his fingers centimeters away from answering. The caller ID reads: City PD.

“Oh my god,” Louis says out loud, swallowing hard.

It’s happening. He had been hoping his fears of the police calling to interrogate him were irrational, fueled by his paranoia about the whole situation. After all, isn’t it more likely that they would just show up with a search warrant? Actually, Louis has no idea. Though, apparently it’s more likely that they would call him because his phone is _currently _ringing with the city police department on the other end of the line.

“Just do it, just do it, just do it,” Louis whispers to himself in a rapid mantra before lifting the phone and saying as casually as he can, “Tommo’s Tattoos.”

There’s more that he’s supposed to say, which Niall always says when answering the phone, but Louis can’t think of any more words for the life of him. The subpar greeting will have to do. It’s not like the police department is calling to check in on his customer service skills anyways.

“Louis!” a familiar voice says on the other line, sounding pleased.

“Zayn,” Louis says, his voice strained. Still, he feels a flicker of hope ignite within him. Maybe this phone call won’t be as disastrous as he feared.

“Is Niall there?” Zayn asks. “I’m going to be a bit late for our lunch.”

Louis feels a rush of relief wash over him. “H-he’s not, but I can t-text him for you. Is that… is that all?”

“Yeah. Hopefully I won’t be long. It’s ‘cos the chief called a last-minute emergency meeting about riot preparedness,” Zayn sighs, and Louis can practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“Oh, okay,” Louis says, swallowing. “Sure. Yeah, okay. I’ll let him know.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Zayn says appreciatively before hanging up with a click.

Louis heaves out a huge breath of air, puffing out his cheeks and sagging back into the chair. _Everything is fine_, he tells himself as he taps out a text to Niall. _Everything will be fine_.

But there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that begs to differ.

-

The day drags on.

They get a few more phone calls and a couple of customers who come in to browse tattoo designs, but otherwise nothing noteworthy happens. Louis is feeling equal parts sad and anxious, which, judging by the thinly veiled looks of worry Niall sends his way throughout the day, he does a poor job of hiding.

Finally, blessedly, closing time rolls around.

“Five o’ clock,” Niall announces. He says it right on the dot, as if he, too, has been staring at the numbers of his watch in anticipation for the past five minutes.

“Great,” Louis says, leaping up from his chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Oh,” Niall looks up from packing up his belongings. “I was thinking maybe we could grab dinner. Or just hang out. So you don’t have to go back to your… quiet flat just yet.”

Louis shakes his head, bouncing on his toes with nervous energy. “No need, Nialler. I’m actually not headed home.”

“Oh?” If Niall is trying to sound casual, he fails miserably. “You have plans?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m meeting someone,” Louis explains vaguely.

Niall makes a face, looking simultaneously confused and repulsed. “What, like on a date?”

“What?” Louis feels himself mimicking the expression. “No, god no. Why would you think that? You know that I’m in love with Harry.”

It comes out so easily and feels so simple to admit that it doesn’t dawn on Louis until a moment later that this is his first time putting his emotions into those words.

Niall is staring at him, eyebrows raised past his hairline.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis runs hand through his hair, drawing in a deep breath. “That’s not really… that’s not how I meant to say that.”

“But it’s true,” Niall says, his tone impossibly gentle.

“Well, he _is_ my soulmate,” Louis says, feeling defensive. “Of course it’s true. Obviously I love him.”

“Obviously,” Niall agrees kindly.

And yet, Louis can’t pinpoint when exactly his love for Harry turned into being _in_ love with him. Of course he has cared about him since they first met, felt affectionate towards him from the get-go. But when did that fondness turn into this, into an overwhelming desire to see him happy? When did he cross the line from wanting to be with Harry because they are soulmates to the point where the thought of either of them with someone else is physically painful to entertain?

“Oh god, Niall,” Louis mutters, tugging at his hair. “When did I fall this hard for him?”

Niall doesn’t seem to sympathize with how Louis’ world has just shifted, a twinkle in his eye and a knowing smile on his lips.

“And before you nag me about it,” Louis says pointedly, “I’m already planning on seeing him later tonight to tell him that we’re soulmates. He deserves to know.”

“That’s good,” Niall says, the steadiness of his voice reassuring. “I’m sure he’ll be glad that you told him.”

Louis nods slowly, his mind still reeling. “I hope so. Lately I feel like I’ve been setting myself up in every way for things to go wrong. And now I’m in love with him… oh, god.”

“Why does being in love with him change anything?” Niall asks.

“Because,” Louis says with a watery smile, “now he might just break my heart.”

As he voices his fear out loud, Louis can feel his body resisting it, every fiber of his being willing it to not come true. Louis doesn’t think he would be able to recover from that.

“Oh, Louis,” Niall says softly, pulling Louis out of his spiraling thoughts. “Anyone with eyes can see that he feels the same way about you that you do him. And besides, you’re soulmates. Even if he does take it badly – which I highly doubt he will – he’ll come around eventually.”

Louis shakes his head. “Even if he doesn’t mind that we’re soulmates, how can he trust me after this? I’ve been deceiving him since day one.”

“Maybe it’ll take some time to rebuild the trust, but that’s okay,” Niall says, shrugging. “Healthy relationships are all about growth. You’ll grow together. You’re meant to be together.”

“You think so?” Louis asks.

“I know so.” Niall says it with such confidence, Louis almost believes him.

“Well,” Louis sighs, “I hope you’re right. Thanks, Ni.”

“Anytime,” Niall says, grinning. “I owe you, remember? You’re the reason I found Zayn.”

“You would have found each other in the end somehow,” Louis says, brushing it off.

“Exactly,” Niall agrees, “so why won’t you believe that about you and Harry?”

Louis opens his mouth, then closes it again. It’s a good point.

“Speaking of Zayn,” Niall continues, “I talked to him at lunch to see if he could help at all. Told him that Derrick was being physically abusive, so Liam left, but that Derrick might call in a case against him.” Niall pauses dramatically, waiting for Louis to gesture for him to continue before he says, “Z said that he’d see what he could do about delaying the investigation.”

“Really?” Louis can’t help the surprise in his tone. “He’d do that for Liam?”

“Ehh, sort of,” Niall lifts a shoulder. “Turns out it won’t take much. Paperwork and roadblocks delay almost every case. He said he’d be happy to take advantage of the ‘bureaucratic ineptitude’ to do some good,” Niall says, making air-quotes with his fingers.

Louis can’t help but chuckle a little at that, his spirits lifted slightly. “Still, that’s really nice of him. I’ll be sure to give him my thanks next time I see him.”

Niall nods, and they walk out of the shop together.

Having been temporarily blindsided by realizing the depth of his feelings for Harry, Louis had nearly forgotten about his appointment tonight.

“One last favour?” Louis asks as Niall locks up.

Niall gestures for him to continue.

“I’m going to share my location with you,” Louis says, holding up his phone with one hand as he opens his car door with the other. “And if you don’t hear from me in, oh I don’t know, two hours? Can you do me a favour and call Zayn? Tell him that something’s wrong.”

“Louis,” Niall says warningly, abandoning locking up the parlor to turn to face his friend, his hands coming to rest at his hips. “Who on earth are you meeting with that warrants a call to my cop boyfriend if I don’t hear from you? Don’t you dare start that car until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Louis ignores him, hopping in and turning the key. He rolls down the window as he reverses so that Niall can hear him as he says, “Don’t worry yet! Just a business meeting, really. It’ll probably be fine.”

“_Probably_?” Niall all but screeches at him. “Tommo, get the fuck back here!”

“Thank you, love you! Two hours, don’t forget!” Louis calls, waving out the open window.

“You have friends who care about you, asshole!” Niall yells after him.

Niall is undoubtedly furious, but Louis knows that the words come from a place of fondness. He might be doing a shit job at showing it, but Louis is so grateful for Niall.

-

When Louis walks into The Beanery, the coffeeshop which he had been instructed to go to, no one looks up. He hesitates by the door, feeling foolish for expecting some sort of signal from the person he is supposed to meet.

There is a group of friends in the back laughing, a couple near the front window holding each other’s hands across the table, and a smattering of individuals either typing away on a laptop or absorbed in their phones. None of them seem interested in him in the slightest. The only person who does acknowledge Louis’ presence is the barista behind the counter.

“Hi there! Welcome to The Beanery,” she calls out. “What can I get for you?”

Louis approaches the counter, still looking around at the shop patrons for anyone who might be watching him or otherwise trying to catch his eye. None of them seem to be, so he directs his attention to the barista. She has blonde hair which is slicked back to show more of her face and pearly white teeth, something that Louis only notices because of how eagerly she is smiling at him.

“Uh, just a hot tea would be great, love,” Louis says. “With milk, please. No sugar.”

“Of course,” she says, beaming at him as she taps quickly on the cash register. “Can I get a name for the order?”

“Louis.”

“I thought so,” she says under her breath as she types his name in, looking pleased with herself.

“What did you say?” Louis asks.

“Here’s your receipt,” she says brightly, ignoring him in favour of handing him the slip of paper. “You can take a seat in the back and I’ll bring your drink right out.”

“I didn’t even pay you yet,” Louis says, confused.

“It’s on the house,” she tells him quietly, jerking her head towards the backroom. She sounds a bit strained as she repeats, “Take a seat in the back and I’ll bring your drink right out.”

Louis gasps softly in understanding. “Oh, I see,” he says. “Right. Thanks, love. I’ll do just that.”

“Good,” she says, turning around to greet the next customer in line.

Louis walks around the counter and pushes aside the curtains leading to the back of the shop, stepping through them into a dim hallway. There’s a bathroom to his left, a wooden spiral staircase at the end of the hall, and another room to his right, the door slightly ajar.

“Come in, Louis,” someone calls from the right, the voice surprisingly soft and welcoming.

Louis pushes open the door, giving an uncertain smile to the young woman sitting at a table just inside the entrance. She has mid-length brown hair, pale skin, and grey-blue eyes that seem to be able to see right through him.

Louis avoids meeting her shrewd gaze, taking in his surroundings instead. The room is small but cozy, appearing to be the breakroom for the baristas. There are posters decorating the walls, a television in the corner, and an empty sleeping bag rumpled on the floor - although when Louis looks closer, there appears to be someone napping inside the sleeping bag.

Louis takes a seat at the only other chair at the table, eyeing the sleeping person in the back once more before whispering, “Uh, hello.”

“Hi. I’m Sarah Jones,” the young woman says, a friendly smile gracing her features. “Don’t worry about Adam,” she adds, motioning to the sleeping bag. “He’s an incredibly deep sleeper.”

As if to prove her point, a loud snore fills the room at that exact moment.

Louis blinks at the sleeping bag. Then, he steels himself. He has felt particularly out of his depth ever since first entering the shop, and he’s pretty sure this is his one shot at regaining control of the situation. “Listen, Sarah,” he says, hoping she doesn’t notice how his voice wavers slightly.

“Sarah Jones,” she corrects, her tone light but curt. “You can call me Sarah if we become friends.”

“Alright, then,” Louis says, continuing as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “listen, Sarah Jones. I don’t know what you want from me, but I just want to put it out there that I don’t have a lot to offer right now. Business has been poor lately, so money is tight and I’ve got an employee to pay plus twice the rent I normally do since my flatmate has disappeared and I’m just_ really_ going through-”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah Jones interrupts, her eyebrows pulled together in a thoughtful frown. “Why would I want your money?”

Louis flounders for a moment. “You don’t? You threatened me.”

Sarah Jones’ expression morphs from confusion to delight, a frankly endearing smile taking over her features. “You thought I sent you a threat?”

Louis doesn’t know what to say to that. If he recalls correctly, the message he received under his door had been fairly ominous. “Yes?”

“Ny,” Sarah Jones says to the barista as she walks in, setting a steaming cardboard cup of tea in front of Louis, “he thought I was threatening him for money.”

Ny looks amused as well. “That’s good, innit? Charlotte was just saying the other day how you ought to try to seem more intimidating.” She turns to Louis then, giving him a rather judgmental look and gesturing to Sarah Jones. “Don’t you know who she is, though?”

“Well, now I do. She just introduced herself to me,” Louis says. It feels like the wrong answer, but he doesn’t know what else he could say.

“Oh my god,” Ny says quietly, shaking her head. “Sarah, he doesn’t know.”

“The police report did say that his break-in was only successful due to sheer dumb luck and a lack of planning which made the group’s actions wholly unpredictable,” Sarah Jones comments thoughtfully, sounding almost as if she is quoting directly from memory.

Louis thinks he should feel insulted, but he can’t find anything inaccurate in what the women are saying about him. Since the purpose of their meeting has turned out not to be to extort money from him by threatening to expose his crimes, Louis no longer has the faintest idea as to what is going on. “Would one of you please tell me why I’m here?”

Ny gives him a faux-pitiful pout before making her exit, presumably to get back to work.

“You’re here because you are being hailed as the face of the anti-soulmate movement,” Sarah Jones replies, “a role which, before your recent accomplishment, was filled by me.”

Louis can’t help but laugh. “The _face _of the anti-soulmate movement? That’s quite a stretch. I’m actually not even involved. I’m not part of it at all.”

“Oh, really?” Sarah Jones asks, disbelieving. “Then why were you the leader of the only successful raid on City Hall in all of England?”

“I wouldn’t call it a ‘successful raid’ and I certainly wasn’t the leader,” Louis says. Then, his brain catches up with her words. “Wait, is that true? No one else has managed that in all of England? We were just borrowing tactics from spy movies.”

“Well,” Sarah Jones says, looking somewhat bitter, “most cities have higher security measures than this one, it seems.”

Louis wonders if she has tried and failed at her own attempts to break into a City Hall.

“Plus, there are rumors that you’ve been using the talents of your profession as a tattoo artist to contribute to the cause in other ways,” her voice lilts upwards at the end, sounding uncertain.

“No,” Louis emphasizes quickly, his eyes widening at what she is correctly implying. “No, that’s not true. I would never-”

“It wasn’t a question,” Sarah Jones cuts him off, looking both dubious and amused. “I know you’ve done it.”

Louis backtracks. There’s no point in lying to her, anyways. She clearly isn’t interested in whether he has been obeying the law. “Fine, so maybe I have. But it has nothing to do with your cause. It’s just for a couple of very select cases which are personal to me.”

“But that would mean that you are involved in the anti-soulmate movement,” she concludes.

“Accidentally,” Louis concedes, before adding in his defense, “But I believe in soulmates. I really do. The way I feel for my soulmate… there’s no way we aren’t meant to be.”

Sarah Jones doesn’t comment, so Louis rambles on.

“I’m actually really nervous right now because I’m going to meet up with my soulmate after this and tell him that we’re… you know, soulmates.” Louis swallows hard, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he allows himself to think about finally telling Harry. “I’m in love with him, which adds an unexpected amount of pressure. His response could either make or break me, you know?”

Sarah Jones doesn’t seem nearly as intrigued by this as Louis thinks she ought to be, which is probably a testament to her anti-soulmate stance. “People are rallying because of you, Louis,” she says encouragingly, redirecting the conversation away from his personal life. “They’re asking questions that they never thought to ask before. They’re challenging what they always took for granted before this. And it’s because of you.”

“Well, they’re all very mistaken because I’m not even on your side,” Louis tells her, refusing to let her sway him. “And if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be the face of anything, especially because I’m trying to lay low right now. I do know someone else who was part of our break-in and is on your side of this, but it would really be best if he also laid low for a while.”

Sarah Jones chuckles softly. “Right, because of the tattoo thing?”

It sounds so small and inconsequential when she phrases it that way, like it’s not single-handedly bringing Louis’ life down in ruins around him. “Yes,” Louis agrees, clipped. “Because of the ‘tattoo thing’.”

“So we understand each other then,” Sarah Jones says, sounding pleased. “You’ll share with me what you’ve learned from your successful break-in, and I’ll stop using your face as part of our propaganda.”

Louis gapes at her. “You’ll stop doing what? Isn’t that illegal, to use my face without my prior consent?”

“Louis, the very core of my belief system is illegal,” Sarah Jones reminds him, nonplussed.

“Right,” Louis deadpans sarcastically, “I forgot that laws are meaningless now.”

Sarah Jones laughs. “You know,” she says, tilting her head and looking at him thoughtfully, “I didn’t expect to like you as much as I do.”

“Well,” Louis shrugs, “I expected you to force me to give up everything I own, so it’s not much of a compliment if I say the same.”

Sarah Jones laughs again. Louis can’t help but notice how much less intimidating she seems when she is laughing. “So, about your City Hall success?” she asks, derailing his train of thought.

“Right, right,” Louis says, nodding. “Like I said earlier, I wouldn’t call it a success. But I can tell you all about how we got in.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Sarah Jones cuts in before Louis has a chance to launch into detail about their air vent adventure. “I doubt our team would experience the same results with your methods, anyways,” she says after a moment of hesitation, as if choosing her words carefully. “No, what I’d like to hear about is what you found. That’s what made it a success, after all.”

“I…” Louis trails off in confusion. “But we didn’t find anything.”

“What do you mean?” Sarah Jones looks equally perplexed, her eyebrows knitting together. “The police report said that they were unable to recover an important file which was noticed to be missing after that night. They didn’t have evidence to prove that your break-in was the reason for the missing file, but I assumed that the two were related.”

Louis thinks for a moment. “There was one file that we thought was important, but it turned out not to be,” he says, shrugging before explaining further. “It was about a pair of soulmates and stored in an extra secure room, which is why we thought it was important, but the cops told me that it was just a standard record since soulmates register with City Hall after uniting with each other.”

When he meets Sarah Jones’ gaze, there is a teasing gleam in her eyes. “And?” she prompts.

“And so we didn’t find anyth- oh my god,” Louis says, realization hitting him. “When I hear myself say it out loud like that…”

Sarah Jones nods, clearly biting back a laugh. “Do you even know any matched soulmate pairs, Louis? Did they ever register?”

Louis thinks back to when Liam first met Derrick. He thinks about introducing Niall and Zayn. He can’t remember either pair mentioning any paperwork or complaining about the hassle of dealing with their local government. “Right, well,” Louis winces, “don’t have to rub salt in the wound.”

“I can’t believe you trusted the police when they told you that it was just a standard file,” Sarah Jones says, shaking her head. “You still have it though, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Louis says. Harry has it, but Louis is almost certain that he would have stored it in a safe place.

Louis zones out for a moment, that trail of thought leading him to think about Harry and their impending conversation about soulmates. When he comes back to his senses, Sarah Jones is sliding him a napkin with her number jotted down on it.

“I’m going to need you to give me a call after you’ve looked into that,” Sarah Jones instructs. “You don’t have to do too much digging, just find out whether or not that file is relevant.”

Louis makes a face at what feels like a set of orders. “I think you missed the part where I explained how I’m not on your side. Why would I do that for you?”

Sarah Jones shrugs one shoulder, seemingly unbothered by his objection. “Aren’t you curious to know the truth?”

Louis doesn’t want to be, but he is a little curious, especially since the soulmate debate seems to be gaining traction. He’s not sure it’s enough of a reason to do what Sarah Jones wants, though.

“Besides,” Sarah Jones continues, “if you find that I’m wrong, you’ll get to rub it in my face and use it to further convince your soulmate that you two are meant to be. Win-win.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “How do you know about that, about my soulmate?” he asks, feeling wary.

“You’ll find that I know a lot of things,” Sarah Jones answers mysteriously, which does nothing to ease Louis’ distrust and everything to make her seem all the more daunting. Fortunately for Louis’ ego, she adds, “Plus, you told me that you’re going to tell your soulmate that the two of you are soulmates tonight. Sounds like the sort of situation one would be in only if their soulmate didn’t believe in soulmates.”

“That’s… very perceptive of you,” Louis settles on saying. Somehow, her explanation hasn’t eased his nerves. “I didn’t think you were even listening to me.”

“You’ll also find that I am quite observant,” Sarah Jones agrees, flashing him a brief smile. “Good luck with your soulmate, by the way.” She sounds dismissive, and Louis gets the feeling that their conversation is over with.

“Right, well,” Louis nods, pocketing the napkin with her number on it and standing up. “Thanks, I guess.”

“For the good luck?” Sarah Jones asks jokingly. “Or for not forcing you to give me exorbitant amounts of money?”

“For both,” Louis says with exaggerated enthusiasm, stepping towards the door. “This meeting has wildly surpassed my expectations, you know.”

Sarah Jones’ lips twist into a look of mock pity. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same. I did expect you to have realized that you had a significant file in your possession, at least.”

Louis feels himself smiling despite the insult. He likes Sarah Jones more than he would care to admit. She might be a know-it-all whose beliefs are the exact opposite of his own, but she also seems like a badass and her sense of humour aligns well with his.

“Fair enough,” Louis says, tipping his head in acknowledgement. “Goodbye, Sarah Jones.”

“Goodbye, Louis Tomlinson,” she says in return.

Louis supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that she knows his last name.

-

Louis texts Harry from his car, parked outside The Beanery.

[To: H, 5:52PM]

dinner at my place tonight?

While he waits for a reply from Harry, Louis also texts Niall.

[To: Niall Horan, 5:52PM]

all is well. sry for worrying u. xx

His phone buzzes right away with a reply from Harry, two texts coming in short succession.

[To: Louis Tomlinson, 5:52PM]

working :(

[To: Louis Tomlinson, 5:52PM]

i can come after, if you want. i’ll smuggle out some dessert!

Louis texts back a thumbs up and a smiley face. Then, as an afterthought:

[To: H, 5:53PM]

could you bring that file from city hall too? wanna look over it again

Harry replies with a stream of emojis. Some are buildings which Louis supposes look as much like City Hall as an emoji can. Others are smiley faces, some looking thoughtful and some looking happy. Inexplicably, there is also an emoji of a man dancing like he is at a disco. Louis interprets this as an affirmative response and pockets his phone before starting the car.

Going home to a microwave dinner in his too-quiet flat filled with reminders of Liam sounds unappealing, but so does going to a restaurant and feeling noticeably alone, surrounded by other couples and groups eating together. He debates texting Niall to see if he still wants to get dinner with him but seeing as Niall hasn’t yet replied to his message about being alive, he decides against it.

Louis ends up in a fast food drive-thru, one of the only ones in town. As he eats in his car in the parking lot, he can’t help but feel like his choice might be just as depressing as going home would have been. It’s too late to do anything about it now, though, so Louis just continues with his dinner, feeling protected by the shelter his car provides.

He finishes eating much faster than he expected – funny how quick eating is when you aren’t chatting with someone or watching a show on the telly.

Louis sighs as he glances at the clock. There’s still plenty of time to kill before Harry’s evening shift will be over.

Not wanting to go back to the flat but not knowing where else he can go, Louis puts on some music and starts driving without a destination in mind. Louis has always enjoyed a good drive. With the car windows rolled down, wind rushing through his hair, and music blasting out of the stereo, he finally feels his worries fading away. All that is important in this moment is driving safely and singing along.

After nearly forty minutes of driving aimlessly up and down the backroads near town, Louis is feeling calmer than he has all day. He has just started to mentally prepare himself to go back to his apartment when he sees a sign. It reads ‘library,’ accompanied by an arrow to the left.

Louis turns left.

He hasn’t really thought it through, but the public library sounds like a safe haven for him right now. It’s a place that he can go alone without fear of judgment, a place that he doesn’t have any strong memories of Liam or Harry tied to, and a place where he might even find something to distract himself from the relentlessness of his own thoughts.

Louis walks in, expecting to find a few quiet visitors inside, reading silently or browsing for books. What he isn’t expecting, is for the library to be completely empty save for one familiar and excitable librarian.

“Louis!” Mrs. Ackerman calls from the front desk, waving a frail hand at him as if he might otherwise not have seen her.

“Hi, Mrs. Ackerman,” he says, walking over to her desk with a somewhat apprehensive smile. “How are you?”

“Oh, there’s nothing exciting going on with me, dear,” she says, brushing his question aside. “You, on the other hand, I’ve been seeing in the news lately. Care to tell me what that’s all about?”

Louis doesn’t want to, not really. So he shrugs and says vaguely, “Just got mixed up in some soulmate stuff.”

“Mhmm,” Mrs. Ackerman hums, narrowing her eyes as she studies him. “And so what brings you here tonight? Has the writer’s block been cured?”

Louis shakes his head, feeling guilty for his lie about being a writer. “I’m on a break from writing, actually,” he tells her. “I’m just here to take my mind off of things. Get lost in a book, maybe.”

“I see,” Mrs. Ackerman says, before adding wisely, “Reading others’ works can be such a good way to get inspiration.”

Louis nods, smiling thinly. It’s all he can manage at the moment. “Thank you,” he says, taking a step away from the desk, toward the bookshelves. “I’ll just go see what I can find.”

“Wait just a second,” Mrs. Ackerman instructs, holding up a finger. She stands slowly and stretches, her joints popping with the movement. Then she turns around, running her hand along a bookshelf behind the desk. “Ah, here’s the one,” she says aloud when she finds whatever it is that she’s looking for, tugging gently at the spine of a book to extract it and then presenting it to Louis with a wink. “Try this one first, dear. I think you’ll find it quite informative.”

Informative isn’t exactly the type of book that Louis wants right now. He wants something enthralling and spellbinding, a fantasy world in which he can get lost and forget about his problems. But Mrs. Ackerman looks chuffed with her selection for him and Louis certainly isn’t going to rob her of this little pleasure.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ackerman,” he says politely, taking the book from her. “I will.”

She nods, then makes a shooing motion with her hands to urge him to go enjoy the read. “If you don’t return that in two weeks, I’m going to be quite displeased,” she calls out after him.

Louis chuckles, heading over to one of the reading tables and taking a seat.

The book is thick and old, its yellowed pages bound together with a hard cover. Across the front in a black, swirling font is the title: _On the Theory of Souls_.

Louis glances back at Mrs. Ackerman in surprise, but she isn’t paying attention to him anymore. He flips open to the first chapter, called _What It Means to Have a Soul_, and starts reading.

-

When Mrs. Ackerman walks by, gently rapping her wrinkled knuckles against the table in front of him, Louis has lost all sense of time. He startles, jumping in his seat and blinking around for a moment before his gaze settles on her.

“Enjoying the read?” she asks with a friendly smile. “I hate to interrupt you, but I’m about to close up for the night.”

“Already?” Louis checks the time on his phone. It’s 9PM. More importantly, he has a missed call from Harry. “Oh god, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“We usually close up at eight,” Mrs. Ackerman admits, “But you looked rather upset when you first walked in and then you got all wrapped up in this book. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you to stop.”

Louis feels a real smile form on his lips, albeit a small one. “Thank you, Mrs. Ackerman,” he says, standing and pushing his chair in neatly. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Oh, it was no trouble,” she assures him. “I’d be reading anyways, whether it’s here or at home. Anyways, make sure you get that book back to me, alright? Two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” Louis repeats. He shuts the book and lifts it at her in cheers as if they are at a fancy dinner and it is the wine glass that he is too far from her to properly clink against hers. He can’t help but notice before he closes it that he has just reached the section titled _The Phenomenon of Soulmarks_, which sounds intriguing but will have to wait.

He hurries out of the library, partly so that Mrs. Ackerman can get home as soon as possible and mostly because the need to call Harry back is flooding urgently through his veins.

“Hey, Lou,” Harry picks up right away, the sound of his voice calming Louis’ frantically beating heart.

“Hi,” Louis says, tilting his head to tuck his phone between his ear and shoulder as he hops into the car. “Are you on your way?”

“I was just about to leave my place,” Harry tells him. “I stopped by to take a quick shower and pick up that thing you asked for.”

“Right, right,” Louis nods. He wants to offer Harry a ride, especially since Harry’s flat is on the way back from the library, but Louis feels like he needs this car ride back to compose himself. “I’ll uh… I’ll see you soon then?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. Then, “Hey, is everything okay?”

Louis swallows. His voice is admittedly a little higher than normal when he rushes to assure Harry, “Yes! Yes, everything is fine. Good. Great, even.”

“Okay…” Harry says, drawing out the word even longer than his normally slow speech would. “It’s just that usually we text all day, and I’ve barely heard from you today. And now you’re acting all…” Harry aborts however he originally planned to end that sentence, saying instead, “You just seem a little off, Lou.”

Louis doesn’t know how to respond. His heart softens at how Harry has noticed, yet his stomach twists as he thinks about the true answer to Harry’s question: it’s because he has been mentally preparing himself to lay it all on the line and confess to Harry that they are soulmates.

“Louis?” Harry prompts, sounding even more concerned at Louis’ silence.

“Sorry, I uh…” Louis fishes for something truthful that he can say. “I’m sort of nervous about something right now, to be honest.”

Harry hums thoughtfully, but fortunately doesn’t press the matter further. “Okay, but try not to worry yourself too much, alright? I’m heading over.”

“See you soon,” Louis says, then hangs up.

He drives in silence for a few minutes, thoughts whirling inside his head. Harry’s words linger in his mind: _try not to worry yourself too much, alright?_ Louis scoffs. As if he could possibly not be worrying right now.

“Harry, I have something to tell you,” Louis practices saying, the words directed at the blue Honda Civic stopped in front of him at the light. “We’re soulmates.” He considers the phrasing for a moment before trying again, “I’m your soulmate.”

Louis frowns. He wonders if he should say more to soften the blow. “I know that you wanted to find love on your own, but-” Louis cuts himself off. “Wait, does that make it sound like I don’t love him? I don’t want it to sound like that. I do love him.” Louis sighs. “God, I love him.”

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, thinking hard. “Harry, my heart has been yours since the day I first laid eyes on you. And I know that you wanted to find love differently, that you didn’t want to just settle for the person your tattoo said you should be with. But things don’t always work out how we want them to, and-” Louis sighs, resisting the urge to bang his head against the horn. “Too long,” he critiques himself aloud. “I’ll lose my nerve by the time I reach the end. Maybe I should just say it. Keep it simple.”

Louis takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “Harry, I’m your soulmate,” he tries.

The light turns green, and the Civic in front of him drives off, tires squealing against the asphalt as it puts distance between itself and Louis’ car.

Louis sighs and turns into his complex’s parking garage. He is as ready as he’ll ever be. It’s time.

-

The ‘out of order’ sign which has become a permanent fixture on the lift is strangely absent when Louis enters his building. For the sake of normalcy, Louis takes the stairs.

When he emerges on the third floor, Louis sees Harry standing down the hall, leaning against the wall in front of Louis’ door. He doesn’t see Louis yet, his attention occupied by his phone, but the sight of him takes Louis’ breath away. Or maybe that was the stair climbing. Probably a bit of both.

“Sorry I’m late,” Louis apologizes as he approaches, offering Harry a sheepish smile.

Harry looks up at the sound of his voice, his features shifting from surprised to contented as his gaze settles on Louis. “Well, you tend to be a little late,” Harry teases, smiling, “but I thought since we were meeting at yours that surely you’d be on time for once. Early, even.”

Louis laughs, reaching for his keys to unlock the door. “I know, I’m sorry,” he says, pushing it open and beckoning Harry inside. “Well, I’m here now. Come in!”

“Before you ask,” Harry says as he follows Louis inside, shrugging off his coat, “Liam is doing fine. He and Mitch get on like a house fire. They’ve been binging Netflix together ever since Mitch got home from work, apparently.”

A small weight feels like it has been lifted off of Louis’ shoulders. He exhales in relief, nodding. “Thanks, H. That’s really good to hear.”

“He sings in the shower – well, I’m sure you knew that already,” Harry says, shaking his head. “But anyways, he’s actually really good. Once this is all over, I’m going to try to convince him to do talent night at BJ’s.”

“He’s pretty shy,” Louis tells Harry, shrugging. “I dunno if he’d be willing.”

“I’ll sing with him for his first time, then,” Harry offers. “It’s always less scary if you’re not alone. Oh!” He snaps his fingers excitedly. “Niall can join, too. And he can bring Zayn. Surely a man that beautiful has a voice to match. And I’ll bring you.”

“Me?” Louis asks, caught off guard. “And have you even met Zayn?”

“Niall showed me pictures,” Harry answers.

Louis chuckles. That does sound like something Niall would do. “Well, sorry to dash your dreams of setting us up in a boyband, but I don’t do singing unless we’re talking about very drunk karaoke.”

“I’ve heard you make some _very_ pretty noises,” Harry says with a smirk, stepping forward and guiding Louis backwards until he is pressed up against the wall. “I’m sure you’ve got a lovely singing voice.”

Louis swallows, his hands automatically pulling Harry close. He’s certainly not opposed to where this seems to be going, but it’s going to be tricky to squeeze in a serious talk if so. Louis tries to shift the mood to something a little less charged. “So uh, you mentioned bringing over dessert? What’d you manage to sneak away?”

“Brought some chocolate cake for you,” Harry answers, gently kissing Louis’ neck. “But I was thinking you could be dessert for me.”

Louis bites back a smile, chuckling and allowing himself to lean into Harry’s touch. “That’s a terrible line, H.”

“Did it work, though?” Harry asks as he pulls back to grin at him, green eyes shining.

He’s beautiful. He is so beautiful, and Louis is so in love with him.

Louis’ heart stutters as he takes Harry in, committing this moment to memory. His hair is damp, falling naturally in soft curls around his face as it dries. His smile is radiant, bringing with it the crinkling of his eyes and the indent of his dimples. His cheeks are slightly flushed, a light pink tinging his usually pale complexion. He looks happy.

Louis thinks he might just be the reason for that happiness. He hopes that he won’t mess that up with what he is about to say.

“You’re not answering,” Harry reminds him gently. He looks rather pleased with himself, probably having picked up on how Louis was temporarily mesmerized by him.

“You don’t need to use lines on me,” Louis says after a moment, having nearly forgotten what it is he should reply to. “’M already yours.”

Harry preens at that, then leans in.

Louis is supposed to be revealing to Harry that they are soulmates. Louis is supposed to be apologizing to Harry for keeping this secret for so long. Louis is supposed to be assuring Harry that the love he feels for him is true and not just a result of their tattoos.

Instead, Louis is kissing Harry.

Harry’s lips are soft, moving tenderly against his own. Louis kisses him back meaningfully, hoping to convey the flurry of emotions he feels which he can’t possibly hope to put into words. He tries to show Harry how much he cares for him and how he would do anything for him. He holds Harry close, cradling him protectively, desperately. Louis can’t lose him.

The way that Harry kisses him back is breathtaking. It’s passionate and sensual, and Louis is so caught up in the feeling that he almost forgets what he is worried about.

Then, Harry reaches for the button on Louis’ pants and reality comes crashing back down on him. The conversation that they need to have is definitely not one to be had after sex. Post-sex conversations are meant for sweet nothings and pillow talk, not momentous confessions.

“Harry, wait,” Louis whispers, untangling his fingers from where they were buried in the other boy’s hair and bringing his hand down to stop Harry from unzipping his jeans. “We should talk.”

“You’re right,” Harry agrees. “Verbal consent is very important.”

“No, I-” Louis falters. “Well, that is true, but that’s not what I meant. I need to tell you something.”

“Right now?” Harry jokes, but his hands move away from Louis’ jeans to rest at his waist, holding him supportively. “Must be serious.”

“Well, uh,” Louis clears his throat, “it is, actually.” Louis pauses, looking around. “Do you mind if we sit down? I think you’re supposed to have the other person sit down before you tell them something like this.”

Harry raises an eyebrow but complies easily enough. He takes Louis’ hand and leads him over to the couch where they sit side by side, enough space between them to angle to face each other.

“Do you remember how I said that I had something important to tell you when we were helping Liam move in?” Louis asks.

“I remember,” Harry says, a small smile appearing on his lips.

Louis nods, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. _Just say it_, he wills himself.

“I think I know what you’re going to say, actually,” Harry says softly.

Louis’ eyes snap open, locking on Harry’s. “You do?”

Harry nods. He’s still smiling, which is a good sign.

Part of Louis reels with shock, but mostly he feels like he should have expected this. After all, surely Harry feels the same magnetic pull towards him. Surely Harry feels the same electric rush in his veins when they kiss. Surely Harry feels whole when they are together, like he has found something that he didn’t even know was missing. Of course Harry knows already.

“I love you, too,” Harry says.

“I’m your soulmate,” Louis says.

For a moment, time screeches to a halt. Louis’ brain scrambles to process what Harry said, as they had spoken simultaneously. A slow feeling of dread creeps into his stomach as he processes what this means. Harry didn’t know. Harry had thought that he was going to confess his love, not a secret that he has been keeping since the day they met.

Sure enough, Harry looks stunned. The easy smile has dropped from his face, replaced with a furrowed brow. His mouth opens and closes for a moment before he manages to stammer, “You- what?”

“I do love you too,” Louis rushes to say, though he doubts it sounds as genuine as he truly feels. “I realized how in love with you I am just today. But I… I’m also your soulmate.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, just stares at him with wide, searching eyes.

Louis can’t seem to remember a word of any of the speeches he had practiced, though he feels like more explanation is needed. His heart is racing, the beating so loud that he wouldn’t be able to hear his own thoughts to come up with something to say even if his brain was functioning. Wordlessly, Louis rolls up the sleeve on his right arm, extending it for Harry to see.

Harry’s eyes instantly lock on the compass. His hand shoots out, seemingly of its own accord because then he stops the movement, his fingertips centimeters from Louis’ skin.

“You can touch,” Louis says, not sure if Harry is waiting for permission.

Fleetingly, Harry glances up at Louis’ face, but his expression is a mask that Louis can’t decipher. Then, Harry’s focus is back on Louis’ forearm. Louis shivers as his fingertips brush lightly over the tattoo.

“You knew,” Harry says, his tone landing somewhere between accusatory and pained.

It’s not a question, but Louis responds anyways, his brain finally working again. “Since you first came into the parlor. I’m so sorry, Harry. I knew that you didn’t want to be with your soulmate, but it was so hard to stay away from you. I was selfish. I should have told you sooner.”

“You knew,” Harry says shakily, “how I felt about soulmates. You knew that you were mine. It’s been _months_, Louis.”

“I thought that you wouldn’t want to know,” Louis whispers. “That you’d want to date me and see where it went before knowing. I thought it would be easier to tell you once we did.”

“I suspected it at one point,” Harry says, shaking his head. “But I thought you’d tell me. And since you said-” Harry pauses, squeezing his eyes shut. He reopens them as he continues, his trembling voice growing increasingly strong. “You said something about your soulmate situation and us being able to flirt. I thought your soulmate was _dead_. Or mistreated you. Or left you. Or all three. I thought that’s why you were so self-conscious, didn’t want to take off your shirt. I thought there was some arsehole out there who had _hurt_ you.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, remorse flooding through him.

Harry turns his head to look at Louis, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together in a thin line. Now, his expression is far from unreadable. His cheeks are wet, and his eyes shine with tears rather than happiness. “You weren’t hurt,” he spits out, his voice cracking on the word ‘hurt’. “You were hiding your tattoo from me.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis repeats pleadingly, not knowing what else he can say.

“I guess I did say that I wanted to go out with guys that I thought I liked, and have them turn out to be arseholes,” Harry mutters. “Thanks for that.”

Louis flinches at the words, a wave of indignation rising from the pain that rushes through him. “Listen,” he snaps, “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? I am. But I thought this was what you wanted. You’re my soulmate. Of course I was going to try to give you what you wanted.”

Harry draws in a long breath, a flicker of regret in his expression. He turns away, shaking his head and sighing. “What I wanted,” he says, “was to not be treated any differently because of this damned tattoo.” He pauses for a moment, then asks resignedly, “Would you have gone out with me, if I wasn’t your soulmate?”

“Yes,” Louis answers immediately. It’s true. He had been wildly attracted to Harry from the moment he laid eyes on him, even before he knew that they were soulmates.

Harry glances at him, looking a little surprised. “Would you have let it get this far?” he presses. “I mean, would you have started this relationship, knowing that I wouldn’t want to give you up when the person with a tattoo matching yours came along to sweep you off your feet?”

Louis hesitates. If Harry wasn’t his soulmate, he probably would have wanted to wait for whoever was.

Harry seizes on the moment of indecision, pushing forwards. “Would you have fallen in love with me?”

Louis shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, Harry,” he says honestly. “But it doesn’t matter because that’s not the case. I _am_ your soulmate and I _do_ love you. I fell in love with you for who you are, not for the ink on your skin.”

Harry sighs, seeming to crumple in on himself, his body sagging into the couch. He scrubs a hand over his face, wiping tears from his cheeks. There’s no fight left in his voice when he says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I fell in love with you too, but I… this is a lot.”

Louis nods, his own eyes growing watery now that the anger is simmering down. Dashed are his hopes of Harry reacting to the news with elation. He feels foolish now for imagining that Harry might have been thrilled to find out about their complementary tattoos.

“I thought that we had done the impossible, you know?” Harry says, sounding small. “Found real love with someone besides our soulmates.”

“We did find real love,” Louis insists, sniffling.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just gives him a sad sidelong smile. “I should go,” he says quietly.

“No, please, I’ll make it up to you,” Louis says, desperate. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t need you to do anything, Lou. I just need some time alone,” Harry says, sounding apologetic. “It’s not that I don’t care about you, very deeply, because I do. I just need some space to process this.”

_Lou_, Louis thinks, latching onto the nickname. It’s promising. But then again, it feels like everyone calls him that nowadays. Even Zayn has called him that. And Harry didn’t say ‘love,’ he said ‘care about’. Louis tries not to read too much into it.

“I can’t lose you,” Louis says quietly. “Please, Harry. You have to believe me. I love you. It’s not because of the tattoo or us being soulmates. It’s _you_.”

“Louis,” Harry says imploringly, his tone gentle despite a hint of frustration, “you have to understand. You’ve flipped my entire world upside-down with a single sentence. I don’t even know who I am right now.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks wetly. “You’re the same person as you were before.”

“Am I?” Harry asks, a huff resembling both a sob and a laugh escaping from his lips. “So much of my identity and my life has revolved around actively separating myself from the soulmate system. And now, I can’t help but question everything that I thought I knew. Maybe this means that soulmates are real. Maybe I shouldn’t get my soulmate tattoo removed. Maybe my mum really was destined to be with that cheating bastard.” Harry clenches his fist, clearly worked up into quite a state.

“Harry, breathe,” Louis says softly. “This doesn’t actually change anything.”

“But it feels like it changes everything,” Harry whispers, biting down on his lip. He looks lost and overwhelmed, and for a moment Louis catches a glimpse of a younger version of Harry, trying to piece together why his mum’s soulmate didn’t love her like he was supposed to.

“I understand,” Louis says, even though he doesn’t.

Harry’s head bobs in a stiff nod. “I should go,” he says again.

This time, Louis can’t bring himself to stop him. He opens his mouth to beg him not to go, but the words don’t come out. After all, who is he to shatter Harry’s worldview and then force him to stay and talk about it? So what if Harry leaving will shatter Louis’ heart? Louis said that he would do anything, so if what Harry needs is space, then Louis will give him space.

Harry reaches out tentatively, resting his hand over Louis’ and squeezing gently. It’s a sweet gesture, but it feels an awful lot like a goodbye. “I’ll call you, okay? Once I’ve got my thoughts sorted out.”

Louis nods, a fresh wave of tears filling his eyes as he watches Harry stand, put on his coat, and walk towards the door. It takes him a moment to find the courage to ask timidly, “Are we still dating?”

Harry lingers by the door, turning his body towards Louis but not quite meeting his eyes. “I’ll call you,” he says again.

Louis tries to convince himself that he doesn’t mind Harry avoiding the question. He’s not sure he wants to hear the answer anyways.

Harry turns around and Louis quickly looks away so that he doesn’t have to see the final moment in which Harry walks out the door. He isn’t quite fast enough, and the image of Harry stepping through the doorway, blurred by tears, burns itself into his memory.

Louis counts to ten in his head after the door swings shut before allowing himself to fully let it out. He cries until no more tears will come and he is heaving dry sobs into the couch cushions. After that, he lays there for a little longer, motionless, tears dried on his cheeks and snot stained on his shirt sleeve. Then, he gets up, goes to the kitchen, and proceeds to eat the entirety of the decadent chocolate cake, trying very hard not to think about where it came from.


	9. so you're telling me there's a chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which louis cannot catch a break, niall is busy getting laid, harry debuts hit song 'Falling', mitch is all bark no bite, and liam is there until he's not.
> 
> oh, and in which you find out the 'truth' about soulmates.

The next morning, the weather is gloomy. Dark clouds must have rolled in overnight because there isn’t a single ray of sunlight that comes in through Louis’ window. Louis doesn’t mind, though. On the list of things that are wrong with his life right now, poor weather is so overshadowed that it barely registers. Plus, the sky fits his mood.

Louis looks away from the window, turns off his alarm completely instead of snoozing it, and rolls over in bed, covering his head with a pillow. His eyes are puffy, his heart is aching, and there doesn’t seem to be any point to anything right now.

Louis can’t find it in himself to get out of bed or otherwise move at all. His entire life has been reduced to this, waiting for a single phone call. He wonders how much time Harry needs to get his thoughts sorted. One night? Twenty-four hours? A few days? A week? A month?

He tries to imagine himself in Harry’s position, to imagine what it would be like to have wholly believed for his entire life that soulmates are a sham only to find out that the person he has fallen in love has actually been deceiving him and is actually his soulmate. Plus, being caught off guard and thinking their serious conversation was going to be a declaration of love rather than an admission of guilt.

Louis groans in frustration. He really made a mess of the situation.

And yet, if Harry was ready to say that he was in love with Louis, shouldn’t that mean that he would want to be with Louis no matter what? Louis isn’t sure what it means that Harry didn’t answer whether they were still dating, but he doesn’t like it one bit.

Louis doesn’t know how much time passes as he lays there, feeling totally empty. He doesn’t care.

Then, his phone vibrates.

Louis’ head snaps towards his phone, his eyes locking on it. Could it be? The vibrations are long, indicative of a call.

Louis practically throws himself across the bed in his haste to grab his phone, a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and hope all building up rapidly within him, filling the emptiness from moments before. _Please_, Louis begs the universe silently, _please let him want this._

He picks up his phone, his thumb swiping to answer immediately. Only after the call is accepted, his brain registers the name that had been displayed on the screen: not H, but Niall.

Louis’ heart sinks, and the burst of energy that had overcome him floods out of his bones as quickly as it came. He sags into the bed with a sigh, begrudgingly lifting the phone to his ear.

“Louis?” Niall’s voice comes through the line, sounding worried. “Are you coming in today? There aren’t any appointments scheduled, but… you’re usually here earlier than this, so I just wanted to check in.”

That’s nice of him, Louis thinks absently. He wonders how he could have forgotten about going into work. The tattoo parlor is his dream. It has been the most important thing in his life for as long as he can remember, from imagining it to planning it to finally opening it. And yet, Louis forgot about it today. Perhaps there’s something, or someone, who is more important to him now.

“Is everything okay?” Niall asks when Louis doesn’t say anything.

Louis cracks a fleeting, dry smile at that. Nothing is remotely okay. Every part of Louis’ life has come crumbling down around him.

“Louis?” Niall prompts. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” Louis says. His voice sounds hoarse, probably from the moment of weakness last night during which he had screamed into his pillow until he started crying again.

“You sound like shit,” Niall says, surprise evident in his voice. “Are you sick?”

“Yeah,” Louis lies, seizing the excuse. “Yeah, I’m taking a sick day. Maybe a sick week, dunno. I’ll let you know when I feel…” The word ‘better’ hangs on the tip of his tongue, but Louis can’t imagine the misery which is currently crushing him ever letting up. “Less like death.”

“Must be really bad,” Niall muses, almost as if he is talking to himself. “You seem like the type to come into work rain or shine, sick or not.”

“Usually I am,” Louis agrees.

“Well, I hope you feel better. I’ll reschedule everything for next week, just in case, alright?” Niall says.

Louis doesn’t reply. Rescheduling appointments means this breakdown of his will affect their business. He should feel guilty about that. He should feel an urge to step up, to go back to work like everything is fine. He should feel _something_. But he doesn’t.

“Do you need anything? I can bring over soup or something,” Niall offers.

“No,” Louis says, “don’t bother.”

“Alright, but text me if you change your mind.”

After a moment in which it becomes clear that Niall is waiting for some sort of response, Louis mumbles, “Okay.”

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest then,” Niall says, hesitating before adding, “This probably isn’t a great time to ask you, but you were so set on it yesterday that I just have to – did you talk to Harry?”

Louis’ throat goes dry, the night before replaying in his mind.

Harry’s smile falling from his face, replaced with shock which turns to distrust. Distrust which turns to anger, anger which turns to pain, pain which turns to sadness.

Harry’s fingers brushing over Louis’ tattoo, feeling simultaneously like the first time they have ever touched and the last time they ever will.

Harry’s eyes cast down as he stands in the doorway, as if meeting Louis’ gaze is the most difficult thing he can imagine.

Harry’s back as he walks away, leaving Louis’ questions unanswered and heart totally shattered.

Louis thinks about the fierce words they had exchanged, the tears that had fallen, the immense space between them now. He hears Harry’s voice ringing in his head with what he fears is an empty promise: _I’ll call you._

It hurts. Louis doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He doesn’t want to talk about it with Niall. He just wants to lay in bed as his world continues to fall apart around him until Harry does call.

“Didn’t tell ‘im,” Louis lies.

It’s his second lie to Niall within the last five minutes.

Before Niall can launch into a speech of reassurances or Louis can dig himself deeper in a web of dishonesty, Louis hangs up.

The flat plunges back into despondent silence and Louis resumes doing nothing and trying his hardest to feel nothing, too.

-

Time passes. Louis doesn’t leave his bed much. He gets up for a cup of tea if he’s feeling cold, a bowl of cereal if he’s hungry, or the occasional microwavable meal if he’s craving more substantial food. Other than that, he stays in bed and tries to numb the increasing feeling of dread building in his stomach. The longer without any word from Harry, the more anxious he feels.

Louis loses track of how much time goes by. Definitely more than a couple of days, but not more than a week. At least, that’s what he would guess if you made him. There isn’t anything to mark the time anymore – no reason to wake up in the mornings or eat scheduled meals or sleep at a decent hour. Morning blends into night which blends into morning again without him even noticing.

So when something interesting finally happens, Louis actually has no idea how long it has been. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that someone has just knocked at the door.

Louis looks up from where he had been staring blankly at his phone, turning his head in the general direction of the front door even though he is in his room and can’t see anything useful from here. For a moment, he convinces himself that he is hearing things. He has been wallowing for who knows how long; surely it’s only a matter of time before he loses his sanity.

But the rapping sound comes again, quicker this time, almost frantic. Louis tilts his head, trying to remember if he had ordered takeout and then forgotten. A small, stupidly hopeful part of him wonders if it’s Harry. It would be just like him to do something grander than a phone call, if he has decided that he wants to stay together.

Louis untangles his limbs from his sheets and pads out of his room towards the front door, curious. It sounds like whoever is at the door is now fiddling with the lock from the outside, which is a bit alarming and very uncharacteristic for both Harry or a potential takeout delivery man.

Is someone interrupting Louis’ wallowing to try to break into his apartment? Oddly enough, the thought fills Louis with rage. How dare they? He flings the door open, indignant.

His mouth is already open, ready to spew out accusations and insults to whoever had the nerve to disturb him, when he realizes who is standing there. Louis falters. “Liam?”

He is wearing the blonde wig, a white shirt, and some extremely high-waisted seafoam green pants. Louis nearly didn’t recognize him, which he supposes is the point of the outfit.

Liam gives a meek shrug. “Forgot how you have to really jam the key in to get the door open,” he says. “Anyways, can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, shit, get in here already,” Louis says, stepping back and ushering Liam inside. “What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be out.”

“I know, but-” Liam starts to say, but Louis’ mind has taken off in a twisted direction.

“Did Harry kick you out?” Louis interrupts, nostrils flaring angrily. “Because if he let what happened between us affect your safety…”

“No, no it’s not that, Lou,” Liam rushes to assure him. He tugs off his wig and flops onto the couch, motioning to Louis to join him. “I just needed to check in on you.”

Louis takes a seat next to Liam, feeling apprehensive. “How did you know?”

Liam winces, shrugging. “Because of Harry. He’s been basically a robot for the past week. Won’t talk, won’t eat, won’t do anything except stare off into space, it seems like.”

“Oh,” Louis says quietly, feeling as if a bucket of ice water has been dumped over his head. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to him that Harry might be feeling similarly miserable. He wonders if Harry’s reaction is because of their argument or because of the fact that they are soulmates. He decides he doesn’t want the answer to that and quickly stops thinking about it.

“Yeah,” Liam says, his brown eyes looking incredibly sympathetic, “Mitch finally got it out of him that you had told him you were soulmates. And well, if that’s what _he_ is like, I could only imagine how you were doing.”

Louis presses his lips together, trying to hold back his emotions. Even after all the tears he has shed, somehow there always seem to be more.

“So I came here. And good thing, too. Have you even been eating? Sleeping? Lou, you look…” Liam trails off, his eyebrows slanted downwards pityingly.

Louis hasn’t looked in the mirror in days. He has no clue how he looks, but it must be a pretty terrible sight.

“C’mere,” Liam says, opening his arms for a hug.

It’s an incredibly kind gesture, especially since Liam can probably tell how long it has been since Louis’ last shower. Louis all but falls into Liam’s arms, burying his face into the other boy’s neck and letting out a sniffle. Liam has always been known to give the best hugs, and in this moment he truly earns that title. His arms wrap tightly around Louis’ body, holding him comfortingly.

They don’t say anything for a while. Liam seems to know Louis well enough to not pry nor offer empty optimistic phrases. He just holds him, his presence speaking his support for Louis more than any words ever could.

“He said he’ll call,” Louis says quietly, the words muffled into Liam’s shirt. “He said he needed to sort his thoughts first.”

“Seems like that could take a while,” Liam says gently.

Louis thinks about that. He still doesn’t fully understand what Harry is thinking about or why this is such a difficult decision for him, but based on what Liam had said about Harry being in a near catatonic state, maybe it makes sense that it will take Harry a while to get back to him. “How long, do you think?”

Liam shakes his head. “There’s really no way to tell. You shouldn’t let yourself wallow away waiting, though.”

Louis pulls back just enough to look around the flat. All of the blinds are tightly closed, keeping the flat in relative darkness. A layer of general mess seems to cover just about every surface, including the floor. For someone who has mostly been in bed, he somehow managed to leave his mark everywhere. It’s depressing.

“He will call though, right?” Louis asks timidly, voicing his greatest fear aloud. He has been toeing around the thought for days now, terrified by the possibility that he won’t. After all, Harry doesn’t actually have any obligation to get back to him.

Liam nods slowly. “I think so. He’s a good guy, Lou. He’s just lost right now.”

Louis knows that. Harry might be one of the best people that Louis knows. Of course Harry wouldn’t leave him hanging with no closure. He knows that. And yet, the lack of contact so far has planted a seed of doubt in his mind.

“Besides,” Liam adds, “you’ve got more connections to him than just this. For one, I’m living with him. And another, you said you’d remove his tattoo. He can’t just never talk to you again, Lou.”

Louis takes a deep breath, feeling a bit of the uncertainty plaguing him fade away. “That’s true,” he says, his voice steadier than before. He deliberately doesn’t let himself wonder whether Harry will want his soulmate tattoo removed still.

Liam gives him a small smile. “You don’t have to do it all at once, Lou, but you shouldn’t let this hold you back from living your life. Go to work, see your friends, take a shower, eat something besides cereal. You know?”

“I get takeout sometimes,” Louis protests, but he is smiling despite himself at Liam’s quip about his diet. Liam knows him too well.

“He’ll call eventually, and no matter what he says, you’ll get through it,” Liam says.

It’s not really what Louis wants to hear, but he supposes it’s the truth. “Okay,” he says with a nod, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Now what do you say we get this place tidied up, hmm?” Liam asks brightly.

Louis groans overdramatically, but stands to follow Liam when he gets up nonetheless.

Liam doesn’t seem to mind Louis’ lack of energy. He opens the blinds with a flourish and gets started bustling around the flat, putting things back where they belong and shooing Louis off to shower and shave.

Louis is grateful for Liam’s help, and especially grateful that since Liam is his flatmate, he already knows where everything belongs. Well, almost everything.

“Hey, Lou?” Liam calls once Louis has gotten out of the shower. “What’s this?”

Louis exits the bathroom, rubbing a towel absently over his wet hair and walking over to where he can see Liam in the kitchen, holding up a thick manila folder.

“Oh,” Louis blinks at it emotionlessly, shrugging. It feels like ages ago that he met up with Sarah and agreed to see if there was any importance to that file. With everything that happened between him and Harry, he had completely forgotten about it. “You can just leave it there. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Looks important,” Liam observes. “Like government stuff. Are you sure you don’t need help with it? If it’s taxes or summat, I can do it with you.”

Louis shakes his head quickly, little droplets of water flying away from him. “No, I’ve got it. It’s soulmate bullshit.”

Liam briefly looks surprised, but then his expression morphs back into the default look of concern he has been wearing all day. “If it’s making you sad, I can burn it or shred it or whatever so you won’t have to see it laying around here every day.”

Louis cracks a small smile. “Thanks, Li, but that’s okay. I want to look at it. Maybe even later today, if I feel up to it.”

Liam shrugs and sets the folder back down neatly on the corner of the otherwise empty kitchen counter, returning to wiping down the countertops. Louis goes to his room to tidy up in there and to put on some clean clothes.

“When’s the last time you did laundry?” Liam calls a moment later, as Louis is changing into a new pair of sweatpants.

“When’s the last time I changed clothes?” Louis counters.

He doesn’t even need to see Liam to picture him wrinkling his nose at the response. “Gross,” Liam calls back.

Louis chuckles. “Fine, I’ll do my laundry.”

After all, he needs to do laundry soon anyways. He is nearly out of long-sleeved shirts. Louis is reaching for one of the remaining clean shirts when it hits him. He doesn’t need to wear only long-sleeves anymore. He doesn’t have to hide his tattoo anymore.

Louis swallows hard and reaches for a short-sleeved t-shirt instead. It’s a small change, but it feels monumental.

Once Louis finishes putting fresh sheets on the bed, picking up the various items he has strewn on the floor, and washing the dishes he had left in his room, he joins Liam where he is sitting on the couch.

“I should probably head back now,” Liam says, sounding somewhat hesitant.

Louis nods. It’s not wise for Liam to stay too long here, even if it would be really nice to not be alone. It would be just their luck for a cop to come knocking on the door on the one day that Liam had decided to come back.

“You should get out of the flat a little, if you can,” Liam suggests. “I think it’ll help. You don’t have to hang out with anyone if you’re not feeling up to it, but I’m sure Niall is missing you. Or if you don’t feel ready for socializing, maybe just run some errands. Go grocery shopping, go for a walk, pick up some takeout on your way home. Yeah?”

Going outside does sound nice. Louis doesn’t like the thought of lounging around aimlessly in the flat alone again for the rest of the day. Maybe he can go grocery shopping and then invite Niall over to try and cook and watch some TV together.

“Yeah, okay,” Louis says, his heart feeling a bit lighter now. “Thanks, Li. You didn’t have to do this.”

Liam gives him a look.

Right, he reminds himself. Liam would do anything for him, the same as he would for Liam.

Liam hugs Louis tightly one last time before he heads out, reminding him firmly, “You’ll get through this.”

Louis nods, a small smile on his lips. There is a stack of newspapers for Liam to read tucked under his arm, and the sight of it makes Louis happy.

He won’t notice until later that Liam has forgotten his wig on the couch.

-

Louis knows that he needs to keep up the momentum that Liam has helped him find. If he lets himself sit alone too long with his thoughts, he’ll almost certainly spiral back into his previous routine.

He checks his phone quickly, just long enough to verify that there is no word from Harry and to set his volume to the highest possible level with the most annoying possible ringtone. This way he can feel confident that he won’t accidentally miss Harry’s call. Hopefully that will get him out of the mindset that he needs to be waiting and ready for his phone to ring at any moment. Then, he texts Niall.

[To: Niall Horan 5:38 PM]

sorry i’ve been mia. let me make it it up to u! night in w me tonight? i’ll cook

Niall texts back right away, causing Louis’ phone to vibrate and chime loudly. The sound startles him, but also reassures him that there is no way he could miss a message from Harry if one were to come. Harry said he would _call_, but Louis isn’t taking any chances.

[To: Louis Tomlinson 5:38 PM]

good to hear from u m8! rain check? getting dinner with Z & then after… ;D

Louis tries not to feel too disappointed that Niall already has plans. He tries to imagine what his normal reaction would be, if he wasn’t clinging to his sanity by a thread. He sends back a barfing emoji, a winking emoji, and an eggplant emoji.

Then, he sets down his phone and tries to not lose motivation. He runs through a mental list of other friends he could hit up for a casual night in. Plenty of people come to mind, but none who know about Harry or whom he would want to confide in about everything going on.

Louis sighs. He can do this alone though, right? He can go for a walk in the park – shit, but the park reminds him of Harry. Okay, nevermind the walk in the park. He can go to Tesco and then come home and try his hand at cooking. It could be like a practice run before he actually has to feed his creation to Niall.

And yet, Louis finds himself sitting at the kitchen counter with his head in his hands, feeling uninclined to move. He doesn’t want to go through the effort of finding a recipe, shopping, and cooking if the night will just end with him eating alone in front of the TV.

Louis stares dully at the countertop, feeling torn. Part of him wants to just sit here and let time pass him by, while part of him feels fraught with urgency to do anything but that.

The manila folder at the corner of the counter catches his eye. He can’t explain why, but he’s nervous to look through it. Still, his curiosity is piqued. Sarah had been convinced that this file was important and even though Louis hasn’t known her very long, he already knows that she tends to be right.

Louis pulls the folder in front of him before he can chicken out, flipping it open. Inside are three sheets of paper.

The first is a form of some sort, with lots of blanks and boxes that have been filled out in messy handwriting. The form is titled “Soulmate Pairing” and is divided into two sections, for two people. The top half consists of information about a Mr. Edward Sheeran and the bottom half has the same information filled out for a Ms. Cherry Seaborn. It’s mostly standard identifying information like their full names, eye color, and birthday. But as Louis looks closer, he realizes it also includes some very specific and seemingly useless information, like their weight and time of birth. Louis frowns at that. Sure, he knows how much he weighed and when he was born, but he is pretty sure he has never been asked for that information, ever. He can’t imagine why it would be relevant on a soulmate form.

The next two pages are photocopies of Edward and Cherry’s birth certificates. It’s certainly not something Louis should have access to, but Louis doesn’t find it weird to include in the file. Louis remembers using his birth certificate to get his passport, so he is pretty sure that birth certificates are a relatively common way of verifying your identity. Still, he feels like he is violating Edward and Cherry’s privacy by seeing their birth certificates, so he puts those back in the folder and returns to looking at the form.

It is definitely odd that the form includes information about their birth, but Louis isn’t convinced that is enough to make the file important. It also includes the name of the respective hospitals at which they were born, which is strange as well. Louis doesn’t even know the name of the hospital where he was born. He could call and ask his mum if he needed to, but he doesn’t think a situation in which he needs that information will ever arise. It’s almost as if Edward and Cherry were babies at the time this was filled out.

Louis freezes at that thought. He feels silly for thinking it, but now that he has, he can’t get it out of his head. It would at least explain why the form includes such specific details.

Frantic, he skims over the form in search of the date on which it was filed. He finds it stamped in the top right: May 7, 1992.

Louis looks back down to Edward and Cherry’s birthdays. Edward was born on February 17, 1991 and Cherry was born on May 6, 1992.

They _were_ babies.

Oh god.

Louis shakes his head, trying to reason through it. Cherry would have been only one day old when this form was filled out. Edward would have been a little over one year old. Neither of them would be remotely close to eighteen, the age at which soulmate tattoos appear. Even if they had somehow met, how could they have possibly known they were soulmates? Hell, they were so young Louis doubts they even knew soulmates existed. They were _babies_.

Louis reels at the implications of this. He is suddenly grateful that he is already sitting, because he is pretty sure he would be staggering to the floor in shock otherwise.

This is impossible.

Does this mean that Sarah and Harry are right? The most logical guess is that this form is a soulmate pairing assignment, matching Edward and Cherry together long before they would ever cross paths.

Louis’ instinctive reaction is to vehemently deny this possibility. Soulmates are real. That’s a fact. He has proof. He has experienced the truth of soulmates firsthand, every day since he first met Harry. He and Harry are right for each other in ways that he can’t even begin to put into words. The attraction and adoration that Louis feels for Harry are orders of magnitude stronger than anything he has ever felt before in his life. He loves Harry. He is in love with Harry, and not just because they are soulmates.

After all, that’s why Harry is off reevaluating his worldview right now – because Louis being his soulmate had also served as proof to him that soulmates are actually real.

And yet, there is no way this form is some soulmate registration form, like that cop Rob had tried to claim. Doubt springs into Louis’ mind, growing stronger despite how Louis wants to crush it down. Why would Rob lie about the form unless there was something that he was trying to cover up?

If there’s a chance that soulmates are a government construct, does that mean he should call Harry? Apparently Harry is still struggling to process that soulmates are in fact real. Would it mess him up even more if Louis were to reveal this might not actually be the case?

Louis takes a deep breath, feeling panicky. Before he does anything, he needs to be sure. He needs to know the truth of whether or not soulmates are real. Part of his brain sounds an alarm at that thought. It’s not one that would have crossed his mind before this. He had wholeheartedly believed in soulmates, and yet this piece of paper seems to have shattered that.

Absently, he realizes that this must be how Harry felt when Louis told him that they were soulmates. He understands a bit more now why Harry reacted the way he did. Louis feels his heart jackrabbiting in anxious beats, his mind at war between accepting logic and denying it for what he always thought was true.

Louis can’t help but feel stubbornly that soulmates must be real, regardless of the form. It’s highly suggestive of soulmates being orchestrated by the government, but it’s not solid evidence.

Maybe rather than an assignment, it’s a prediction of who will end up being soulmates. Maybe it’s part of some government-funded research project to better understand how the pairings work. Though, if so, there should be some documentation of the study and a follow-up once the subjects turned eighteen.

Maybe it is an official soulmate record, like Rob had said, and somehow a one year old Edward had managed to wander into the hospital room where the newborns are kept and had “met” Cherry then. It’s unlikely, but crazier things have happened. If Edward had a sibling who was born around the same time, that could explain why he was there. But then again, how would anyone have known to document their meeting?

Louis groans. He knows that he is grasping for straws right now.

Sarah will be happy with this update, surely, but Louis isn’t satisfied. If soulmates aren’t real, he is going to need indisputable evidence. If Louis is going to believe that somehow he and Harry are just miraculously compatible and not fatefully destined to be, then he needs to prove to himself that this form is indeed a soulmate assignment. If there is even the smallest flicker of doubt that the form could be something else, Louis will take it as a lifeline, no matter how irrational or improbable it may be. Because if soulmates aren’t real, then he might have fucked up his shot with the love of his life for no good reason.

Louis feels adrenaline coursing through him, but he doesn’t know what to do with this burst of energy. He doesn’t know where to start.

If only he could find Edward and Cherry. Then, he could verify whether they are actually soulmates and whether there is any way they met one day after Cherry was born. They could help him figure out what the truth is.

There is no contact number on the form, which Louis supposes makes sense since babies don’t tend to have phones. He could try calling the hospital, but he doesn’t think they would give up this sort of information easily. He could try breaking into the hospital, but adding more illegal activities to his current list of crimes sounds like a bad idea. Plus, he’s pretty sure Mitch and Harry don’t want to speak to him right now and they’re the ones who are the recon experts.

Edward Sheeran and Cherry Seaborn.

The name Cherry sounds familiar. Louis frowns. For some reason, he feels as if he has had this exact thought before, like déjà vu.

Louis thinks hard about it but can’t quite remember. So, he googles her. There are a couple of Facebook profiles with the same name who look like teenagers – too young - and a Linked-In profile of someone with her name who looks older than Mrs. Ackerman – too old. Plus, the locations on the profiles don’t seem to be anywhere nearby.

He tries googling Edward next. Surprisingly, this yields a promising result. Buried Jewel’s webpage comes up first, with an announcement from two weeks ago congratulating Edward Sheeran on earning a permanent slot to perform on Wednesday nights. The location fits, and more than that, it triggers Louis’ memory.

He knows why the name Cherry sounds familiar. He met her at Buried Jewel. She had been sitting next to them, cheering on Ed, her husband and soulmate. Ed, which is probably short for Edward. That was the night that Louis had made a fool of himself mourning how he and Harry would never get married. He feels silly for that, looking back on it. He has much bigger relationship problems now than he could have imagined then.

Louis winces, trying not to think about Harry. He needs to focus on Ed and Cherry. They are soulmates, Cherry had confirmed that. But is it possible for them to have met when they were both so young?

It’s extremely unlikely. A sinking feeling tugs at Louis’ stomach, a knot of guilt and dread forming. Can it really be that soulmates are a government plot? If so, not only will his worldview be upended, but it means he has needlessly ruined everything he had with Harry.

Louis forces himself to focus. Technically, it’s possible for Cherry and Ed to have met at the hospital as babies, isn’t it? Louis clings to that shred of hope.

He can probably find Cherry again at Ed’s next performance. She will think he is absolutely crazy, but if he can get her to talk with him, he can probably figure out whether or not there was any way that Ed met her as a newborn.

Louis feels preposterous, but he doesn’t care. If there’s even the slightest chance that soulmates are real – which there _is_ – he’s going to try to prove it, no matter how impossible it might seem.

Louis realizes he has lost track of time and days entirely. He has to check his phone to figure out what day it is today: Sunday. That means he will have to wait three whole days until Ed’s night on Wednesday.

Louis sighs. It sounds like a long time to wait and not be able to do anything. He can’t help but regret not looking at the file sooner. If he had discovered all of this before last Wednesday, he could have an answer by now. If he had an answer by now, he could call Harry and explain everything and apologize all over again. Even if it turns out soulmates are real, having definitive proof would help Harry process things faster, right? Well, it doesn’t matter anyways. He’ll have to wait. There’s nothing he can do on a Sunday.

Or is there? Louis thinks for a moment. He vaguely remembers Niall telling him that Sundays are talent night at Buried Jewel. It’s the night where anyone can perform, regardless of whether or not they have a scheduled slot later in the week.

Ed and Cherry might be there. And if they are, maybe Louis can find a way to talk to them both together instead of interrogating Cherry while Ed performs, which seems like a method that might get him labeled insane at best and kicked out at worst.

There is a slim chance that they’ll be there, a slimmer chance that they’ll be willing to answer his questions, and an even slimmer chance that their answers will prove that soulmates are real. But Louis has to try. He has to know. His body is thrumming with manic energy and there is no way that he can sit idly for the rest of the night and over the next few days, just waiting and wondering.

Louis spends a solid five minutes searching for his keys – Liam has put them where they should be, in the key dish that he always forgets to use, rather than under the couch, the last place he saw them – and heads to Buried Jewel.

-

Louis doesn’t realize that he isn’t dressed to go out until he walks into the bar. He doesn’t usually go all out for a night at Buried Jewel, but he doesn’t usually wear sweatpants either.

He feels a bit out of place, but no one else seems to be paying him any mind, so he dismisses the thought. He has enough to worry about as it is.

There is a girl in a floral dress onstage giving it her all, singing a passionate rendition of Adele’s _Someone Like You_. She has blonde hair, but it’s a lot lighter than Louis remembers Cherry’s hair being. She doesn’t look familiar either, so Louis rules her out. He scans the crowd for Cherry, then abandons that in favour of trying to spot Ed, since he has distinctive red hair and Louis knows what he looks like from successfully stalking him online earlier. Unfortunately, the lights are low, save for the spotlight beaming onstage, which makes identifying hair colour unexpectedly difficult.

The lighting is better by the bar, so that’s where Louis starts his search. He suspects Cherry will be sitting at a table like she was last time, but he doesn’t actually know her (though he does know specific details about her birth) so he can’t assume that he knows her habits. Still, Louis isn’t too surprised when his thorough check of the bar patrons comes up empty.

Next, Louis wanders towards the tables in front of the stage, trying to seem as if he is looking for an open seat. It’s not too crowded tonight which means there are plenty of open chairs and Louis probably looks foolish. He abandons that pretense and acts instead as if he is looking for a friend, repeatedly checking his phone before squinting around at the audience.

A group of girls replaces the previous singer, passing around the mic as they introduce themselves. It occurs to Louis that he hadn’t seen these girls waiting on the side or in the audience before going onstage. There must be some sort of backstage area where performers are queueing before their time slot. Louis wonders if that’s where Ed is, too.

The girl group is incredible, harmonizing with each other effortlessly and even dancing around while they sing. Louis is so mesmerized by the performance that he temporarily abandons his mission of finding Ed and Cherry. It’s only when the audience erupts in applause that Louis realizes he has gotten sidetracked.

A few of the audience members give the girls a standing ovation, two of whom catch Louis’ eye. In the last row of tables, there is a couple standing and cheering. One of them has reddish hair sticking up every which way and the other has blonde hair and a familiar smile. Ed and Cherry.

Louis starts towards them before deciding his prying should be smoothed over with a drink. He goes to the bar instead, ordering a beer and the second cheapest cocktail before making his way over.

“Hey,” Louis says brightly, not entirely sure how to start this interaction despite having agonized over it while the bartender prepared the drinks. “I bought you drinks.”

Ed gives him a blank look.

Fortunately, Cherry recognizes him. “Louis?” she asks, sounding only a little confused.

“You remembered!” Louis says in surprise, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief.

“Ed, this is Louis,” she introduces him before adding teasingly, “He’s friends with Harry. You know, the one whose couch you used to sleep on, but apparently didn’t feel the need to introduce me to even though you both perform here.”

Ed chuckles good-naturedly, shrugging at Louis helplessly. “Well, nice to meet you, mate. And thanks for the drinks.”

“No problem,” Louis says. “You’re unbelievably talented, by the way. Saw you perform last time I was here.”

“Thanks,” Ed says, beaming. “Nice to hear I’m not losing my touch. Is that why you bought us drinks?”

“Well, not exactly,” Louis shrugs, pulling up a chair. “I was hoping to ask you two a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

“Only if it’s during the bad performances,” Ed agrees.

Louis falters, glancing up at the man who is currently onstage, fumbling uncertainly with his guitar.

“Be nice,” Cherry hisses, squeezing Ed’s arm. “He’s joking,” she clarifies for Louis’ benefit. “Ask away.”

Ed laughs, looking apologetic. “What did you want to ask us?”

“Right.” Louis nods, wishing he had a drink of his own. “First I wanted to ask about how the two of you met?” It’s not a proper question, but Louis’ voice goes up at the end to try to make it one. He’s admittedly quite nervous about this.

“Surprised Cherry didn’t tell you already,” Ed says, smiling fondly. “She tells anyone who will listen.”

Cherry seems proud of this. “We were busy listening to you perform last time, love.”

Ed shrugs, grinning. “Hasn’t stopped you before.”

Cherry rolls her eyes before turning her attention to Louis. “Well,” she starts, smiling widely. “It was a miserable summer day. Well, that’s how it started out anyways. You know those days where it feels like you can’t do anything right? One of those. I treated myself to some retail therapy and was on my way to buy some ice cream when I pass a young man busking outside of the shops,” she nods at Ed, as if Louis hasn’t guessed already that he is the man she is referring to.

Ed presses a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“His voice captivated me instantly,” Cherry continues, “and every song was better than the last. I stayed in the audience for over an hour, lost in the music. When he called it a day and started to pack up to go home, I knew I had to tip him. Wouldn’t be right otherwise, would it? And when I went up to put a bill in his guitar case, he crouched down, took my hand, and asked if I did indeed have LEGO bricks tattooed on my arm. Turned into the best day of my life.” 

Ed and Cherry exchange a smile. Cherry offers her arm out to Louis, and Ed follows suit. Sure enough, there are a few floating LEGO bricks on Cherry’s arm and the head of a LEGO man on Ed’s.

“And that was the very first time you two ever met?” Louis asks, trying to stay focused despite the display in front of him. Ed has a whole sleeve of tattoos which Louis’ inner tattoo artist is very interested in.

Cherry nods, smiling sweetly. “The very first time.”

Louis does his best to stay on track. That means that if Ed and Cherry met at the hospital when they were babies, they don’t know that it happened.

“Ed, do you have any siblings?” Louis asks next. Another baby being born to Ed’s family would be the perfect reason for Ed to end up accidentally meeting baby Cherry.

Ed blinks in surprise, presumably at the abrupt change of topic, but answers anyways. “Got an older brother.”

Damn. Louis had been hoping for a younger sibling - younger by one year, to be precise.

Louis tries to stay optimistic, even though it seems increasingly that Ed and Cherry didn’t have any sort of interaction with each other in the hospital. There is still a chance. Maybe the older brother had sustained some sort of injury that brought their family to the hospital. Or maybe Ed had.

“Have you or your brother ever broken any bones? Or gone to the hospital for any other reason? Especially when you were very young?” Louis presses.

Ed glances at Cherry, looking a little uncomfortable now. “Not when we were young,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “But I broke my wrist and elbow in a bike accident a few years ago. Everyone made fun of me for being scared of going to the hospital for the first time. I was 26.”

Louis feels his last shred of hope slipping through his fingers. “That was the first time you ever went to the hospital?”

“Don’t you start making fun of me for it, too,” Ed warns. “I just stopped getting shit for it, I swear.”

Louis chuckles, but it’s halfhearted at best.

So Ed wasn’t at the hospital after Cherry was born. They didn’t meet that day, and yet a soulmate pairing form was filled out with both of their information and years later, they turned out to be soulmates.

Louis feels sick.

Louis definitely understands Harry’s reaction now. He needs time. He needs space. He needs to scream, or maybe throw up, or maybe drink until he blacks out.

This is it, the proof he had so desperately wanted. Soulmates aren’t what he thought they were.

He should tell Sarah. He should tell Harry.

Funnily enough, even though Louis has wanted nothing more than to talk with Harry for the last week, right now he can’t think of anything worse than if Harry were to call right now. What would he even say? _“Remember how I told you that we were soulmates and made you reevaluate your entire existence and lose all trust in me? Can we pretend that never happened? Turns out soulmates aren’t even real!”_

He would word it better than that, of course, but the message would be the same: backtracking over everything Louis had said in their last conversation. Their last conversation, which Louis had instigated, which wrecked their relationship.

“Weird questions, Louis,” Cherry comments, bringing Louis out of his thoughts.

Louis nods dumbly, not sure what to say. “Yeah, I had… a theory about something.”

Ed raises an eyebrow at him. “Had too much to drink is more like it. You don’t look so good, mate.”

“I’m fine,” Louis says quickly. And he is, physically. Other than the ache in his chest and the tightness in his stomach, he is fine. Emotionally, on the other hand, he feels like he has been repeatedly run over with a steamroller.

What if he has lost his chance with Harry? What if Harry can’t trust him anymore? What if Harry doesn’t believe that Louis loves him, regardless of being soulmates?

Louis’ head is spinning, but his heart feels exactly the same. It beats for Harry, just as it always has.

He wonders if there is any chance of winning Harry back.

Ed and Cherry are chatting quietly with each other now. Louis feels as if he has faded into the background, like he is floating away and no one has noticed.

“I’m gonna go,” Louis says suddenly, voicing the words as soon as the thought crosses his mind. “Thanks for, um, indulging my questions.”

“Aw, stay just a little longer,” Cherry says as he scoots his chair back to stand up. “I think our mutual friend is up next.”

Louis’ heart rate picks up at the words, but surely he has misunderstood her. Liam had said that Harry was practically a robot. “Our mutual-?” Louis starts to ask.

Another voice interrupts him, carried clearly across the room by the microphone. It penetrates Louis’ core, the sound warm, familiar, and utterly heartbreaking: “Hi everyone. I’m Harry.”

Louis is frozen, stuck halfway between sitting and standing as every fiber of his being focuses on where Harry is standing onstage. He looks awful. Well, he is still just as beautiful as the day Louis first laid eyes on him, but he is visibly in much worse condition than he was then. His hair is greasy, his eyes underlined with dark bags, and his smile – which is usually unrivaled in its radiance when performing – barely reaches his lips, much less his eyes. Instead of his usual bright suit or floral shirt, he is wearing a hoodie and gym shorts, both of which are black. He looks even more out of place than Louis feels in his sweats.

Louis realizes he has stopped breathing and sucks in a ragged gasp for air to remedy that. He doesn’t know when breathing became painful, but it’s probably because his bursting heart is leaving no room for his lungs in his chest.

“Tonight I’m performing a few songs for you all because my roommate dragged me out of bed and told me that music is the best cure for heartache. So, here we go.”

There are a few sympathetic _aww_’s from the crowd, along with a loud wolf whistle. Louis tears his gaze away from Harry to seek out the source and finds Mitch in the front row, clapping his hands.

“This first one is called _Falling_,” Harry says into the mic before stepping back and beginning to strum a slow, melancholy tune on his guitar.

Louis sinks back down into his chair, gripping the table to steady himself. The world is swirling around him, everything a blur except for Harry. He thinks Ed might be saying something to him, but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. Harry is all he cares about right now.

Harry had sounded dull while he was introducing himself, nearly lifeless. When he starts singing, though, his voice is raw and captivating. The song is a sad one, and he conveys that within the very first line, his words slow and thick with emotion. “I'm in my bed; and you're not here.”  
Louis’ heart aches in his chest at the sorrow in Harry’s voice. He can’t decide if it’s more foolish to think the song might be about him, or to think that it could possibly be about anyone else.

“And there's no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands,” Harry sings mournfully.

Louis feels like he has been kicked in the stomach. Wandering hands? Louis isn’t sure he could handle hearing an explanation to that.

“Forget what I said; it's not what I meant. And I can't take it back, I can't unpack the baggage you left.” There are tears brimming in Harry’s eyes now, and Louis has to look away to stop himself from tearing up, too.

He wonders what Harry had said that he now wants to take back. He hopes it isn’t “I love you, too”.

“What am I now? What am I now?” Harry is belting the words out now, laden with emotion. “What if I'm someone I don't want around?”

Louis knows what that part is about, but it’s inconsequential now. _You were right, _he thinks, willing Harry to somehow be able to read his mind. Harry doesn’t have to question who he is anymore_. _Soulmates aren’t real. Louis looks up at Harry onstage again, just in time to see a single tear slip down his cheek.

Louis can’t take it any longer. “I have to go,” he mutters to Ed and Cherry, standing abruptly and turning away before they can stop him.

He keeps his head down and walks quickly towards the exit. As he pushes open the door, he pauses to look back at Harry one more time. Although Harry is surely being blinded by the lights aimed at him, Louis swears that their eyes meet. He hesitates, drawn to Harry as always, not wanting to break the eye contact.

“I'm fallin' again, I'm fallin' again, I'm fallin',” Harry drags out the last note, their eyes still seemingly locked.

There’s a pause then, Harry’s hand resting on the guitar instead of strumming the chords to lead up to the next verse. “Louis?” Harry says into the mic, an urgency in his voice that wasn’t there before. He holds up a hand to shield his eyes, squinting as he asks, “Is that you?”

The crowd erupts in hushed murmurs and whispers, looking around to see what has caught their performer’s attention. Quite a few of them figure out that it’s him, in no small part due to Cherry and Ed enthusiastically waving for him to come back.

Louis panics.

Objectively, it’s the worst possible reaction, but Louis didn’t have time to logically consider all of his options. There are people staring at him including but not limited to the couple who proved to him that soulmates are a sham and the love of his life who he thought was his soulmate. It’s a lot. He flees.

Louis stumbles backwards blindly, all but throwing himself out the door. Apparently it has started pouring rain while he was in the bar, because when he catches himself on the railing of the stairs outside, he immediately loses his grip on the wet surface and slips into a puddle on the ground.

It doesn’t matter though. Very few things matter right now.

“Louis, wait!” he hears shouted from inside, followed by a loud thud and some affronted gasps.

Louis doesn’t pay it any mind, though he suspects that Harry might have just jumped off of the stage. Instead, he focuses on getting himself out of this situation as possible. He isn’t ready. He can’t have this conversation with Harry. Not like this, when he has just discovered that soulmates aren’t real and his mind is full of self-loathing and denial. At the very least, he needs time to figure out what he is going to say. He can’t risk fucking up and losing any remaining chance he might have at getting his boy back.

The door to Buried Jewel bursts open just then, while Louis is fumbling for his car keys in the rain. Louis glances up to see Harry stopped just outside the doorway, a guitar gripped in his right hand and a flurry of mixed emotions etched on his face.

“Louis,” Harry says, sounding defeated. His urgency is gone, replaced with a disheartened tone and begrudging gaze at where Louis is unlocking his car. His words are barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain pattering against the concrete. “Louis, please.”

Louis looks at him, biting his lip uncertainly. Whispered conversations between broken-hearted boys in the rain don’t end well, he knows.

They are both getting drenched. Louis can feel the water against his skin, having already soaked through the flimsy cotton of his shirt and sweatpants. Harry looks just as wet and miserable, his hair starting to droop and curl. The only good thing about the rain is that neither of them can tell whether the other is crying. Well, plus no one can tell that Louis fell on his arse in a puddle.

“You said you would call,” Louis finally settles on saying.

Harry nods slowly. “I know. That was before I…” he trails off for a moment, then huffs out an exhale and scrubs a hand over his face. “Louis, I think I might have fucked everything up.”

Louis flinches. He can’t help but think about the lyric Harry had sung, the one about the wandering hands. “What do you mean?”

“You were right,” Harry says, taking a cautious step forwards, his shoe squelching with water. “About us, I mean. I tried to… to find someone who could make me feel the way you do. No one even came close.”

Harry might as well just stab him with a knife. It would hurt less. “You what?” Louis demands, sharper than he intended.

Harry stops walking towards him, looking startled.

“Just because you didn’t answer when I asked if we were still dating doesn’t mean you get to go…” Louis makes a face, spitting out the next words, “find someone else.”

Harry’s face falls. “Not like that,” he says, sounding affronted. “There’s no one who could hold my interest for ten seconds let alone tempt me to be unfaithful.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that when you told me we were soulmates, I think how I reacted might have fucked everything up,” Harry says, anguished. “I’ve realised now, there’s no one else like you. And it makes sense to me - us, being soulmates.”

“Does it?” Louis snaps bitterly.

Harry recoils as if he’s been burned. He looks confused, then pained. “So I did fuck it up,” he says quietly.

Louis sighs heavily, immediately regretting his words. He folds his arms and rests them against the top of his car, dropping his head on top of them. Rain drizzles over him as he tries to find the courage to tell Harry what he has discovered.

“I was going to call tonight, I swear,” Harry continues, pleading now. “And when I saw you here, I thought… of course he’s here. I mean, we’re soulmates. I thought you’d want to… to talk.”

Harry’s newfound belief in soulmates is what pushes Louis over the edge. He has to tell him.

“You’re not the one who fucked up,” Louis admits.

He isn’t sure that Harry has heard him, but when he lifts his head to check, the other boy is already staring back at him, curious but wary. “What do you mean?”

“You know that file you brought over?” Louis asks.

Harry nods slowly. “What about it?”

Louis takes a deep breath, gathers his nerve. “I think it proves that soulmates aren’t real.”

Harry doesn’t react for a long moment, standing very still. Then, he scoffs loudly, taking a step backwards. “Tell me you’re joking,” he says.

Louis wishes he could. He shakes his head.

“After all we’ve been through,” Harry waves his free hand around wildly before clenching it in a fist, “now you’re telling me that _you_ don’t believe in soulmates?”

“I know, I know,” Louis winces. “I’m still coming to terms with it myself.”

“What about us, then?” Harry asks incredulously, raising his voice. Louis can’t tell if it’s meant to be a rhetorical question or not. “If we’re not soulmates, then what are we? A _coincidence_?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” Louis all but yells back. Realising his temper is rising, Louis squeezes his eyes shut to gather himself. Then, he sighs, flicking his wet hair away from his face and saying, “Listen, let’s get out of here. Out of the rain, at least. We can try to work through this together.”

Harry doesn’t respond for a long moment.

Louis watches him closely, his heart sinking. He knows what Harry is going to say before the words leave his mouth. It’s written all over his face, in the grim line of his lips and the frenzied green of his eyes.

“I don’t think I can do that right now, Louis.”

Louis nods. He’s not surprised, but he feels a flood of disappointment nonetheless. “That’s fine,” he says. “Me neither, to be honest.”

This time, when Harry doesn’t say anything, his expression is unreadable.

Louis feels drained. His manic energy has worn off, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Harry still hasn’t said anything, and Louis finds that he doesn’t know how to fill the silence either.

“Actually call me this time, okay?” Louis says after a long moment. He swings the car door open and gets in.

Harry nods.

Louis starts the car, then pauses. He waits just long enough that Harry could stop him, if he wanted to.

But Harry doesn’t call out or run towards the car like Louis hopes. Instead, he turns away. The last thing Louis sees before driving away is the wetness on Harry’s cheeks. He doesn’t think it’s just from the rain.

-

When Louis gets back to his flat, he is cold, wet, and generally miserable.

The manila folder mocks him from the kitchen counter, so he turns away, facing the couch. Something is glaringly out of place, a tuft of blonde sticking out from between the seat cushions.

Louis swallows, walking over to the couch and hoping it’s not what he thinks it is. If Louis’ stomach sinks any lower, it’s going to reach his toes.

He pulls the blonde hair free from the couch with a sigh. It’s Liam’s wig. Liam shouldn’t have gone home without it, but it’s too late to do much about that now. Louis hopes he got home safely and makes a mental note to return it the next morning.

Water is dripping off of him and onto the floor – the freshly cleaned floor, thanks to Liam – so Louis goes to take a shower. He sets the water temperature as hot as it will go and takes his time under the scalding spray.

Louis scrubs soap viciously over the compass on his arm, as if he might be able to wash it away. Soulmates aren’t real, he tells himself.

Soulmates aren’t real. He repeats it in his mind, over and over again, for the rest of the night, wondering when he will actually believe it.

-

Unsurprisingly, Louis doesn’t sleep well that night.

He finds himself laying awake, thinking about what it means if soulmates truly aren’t real. What does it mean for couples like Ed and Cherry, like Niall and Zayn? Does that make them a coincidence, like Harry had said? Now that Louis has uncovered this, is he responsible for bringing the information to light? What effects will this have on their society? Is Louis going to be the reason for their downfall?

Louis gives in around three in the morning, abandoning his attempts at counting sheep in favour of sitting at the kitchen counter with a pen and one of Liam’s notepads. There are countless questions that he can’t answer, but there is one important question that he can: how is he going to fix things with Harry?

Louis jots down his ideas, trying to figure out what he will say. It’s a difficult task, mostly because he refuses to settle for a speech that is anything less than perfect. He crumples up far too many unsatisfactory drafts where he felt he didn’t emphasize his feelings enough or spent too much time dwelling on their arguments.

Finally, a few hours later, Louis sets down his pen with a decisive nod. His eyes are bleary and his mind feels slow, but there is a proud hum in his bones. He is going to talk to Harry, and he is going to win him back. He’s sure of it.

But first, he gets some sleep.

-

For a moment, when Louis first wakes up, he feels optimistic. Today is the day he is going to make up with Harry. He has a killer speech written which includes a sincere apology, a declaration of true feelings, and solid reasoning for why they shouldn’t let anything soulmate related come between them.

But Louis’ good spirits are short-lived. He realises that his plans for the day are not going to work out when he sees a missed call on his phone, one that’s not from Harry. It’s also not from Niall, Zayn, Liam, or his mum, all of whom are more likely to call him and he would much rather speak to than who actually called. But no, it’s a call from Mitch, whose contact name Louis had input as Bitchy Mitchy because they weren’t on great terms at the time and Louis had no idea what Mitch’s last name was. He still doesn’t know what Mitch’s last name is, actually. He makes a mental note to change the contact at some point.

There’s a voicemail, which Louis plays as soon as he has finished wondering about Mitch’s last name.

“Hi, Lou- er, Louis,” Mitch says in the recording, sounding very unsure of himself. “Listen, I don’t think I’m supposed to be on speaking terms with you, because H was so upset last night that he literally – well, I don’t think he wants me to tell you that, actually. Anyways, point being I shouldn’t be calling you because I shouldn’t be speaking to you because I’m very angry at you on his behalf, but-” Mitch cuts himself off, then huffs a frustrated exhale. “Look, do you know where Liam is? He went out yesterday in disguise and I haven’t seen him since. I figured you’d want to know. Did I mention that I’m mad at you? This isn’t an olive branch. It’s just, like, the decent thing to do. So I hope Liam is okay, but also fuck you. Okay. Bye.”

“Oh my god,” Louis mutters to himself, burying his face in his hands as he processes what Mitch had said. He thinks of the blonde wig that Liam had left behind. Did something happen to him on his way back because he had forgotten it?

Once Louis’ brain kicks into gear, he launches himself out of bed, changing out of his pajamas in record time and rushing out the door without even bothering with his usual bowl of cereal.

He makes it to Harry and Mitch’s apartment in ten minutes without even breaking any traffic laws. Still, Louis suspects his good luck with catching green lights is probably going to be the only good luck he has today.

Mitch opens the door with a towel wrapped around his head, looking fresh out of the shower and very confused.

“What are you doing here?” Mitch asks, frowning. “You need to leave. Please don’t make me kick you out.”

“Then don’t kick me out!” Louis says easily, pausing to take in the thin frame of Mitch’s body. “Besides, I think I could take you if we fought. You’re skinny.”

“Taller than you, though,” Mitch counters.

“Oi!” Louis exclaims, offended. He’s not that short, after all.

“Also,” Mitch makes a face, “your breath is terrible right now. If I can’t get you to leave, can I at least convince you to use a spare toothbrush?”

”Oh,” Louis says, tilting his head to the side as he tries to remember whether he brushed his teeth before racing out the door. It’s entirely possible that he forgot.

“Or like a piece of gum? A mint?” Mitch continues, interpreting Louis’ lack of response as a negative one.

“Yeah, fine, sorry. I think I forgot to brush in my hurry to get here,” Louis says.

Mitch looks a little too relieved at his acquiescence. Louis wonders if he should be offended again.

“Alright, wait here and I’ll get you some gum,” Mitch says. He turns and points what is probably intended to be a threatening finger at Louis as he retreats, adding, “Don’t come in, got it? You’re not welcome here.”

So of course, Louis steps inside while Mitch is off rummaging in the kitchen.

“You keep your gum in the kitchen?” Louis calls out.

“Yeah, ‘cos if you chew it while you cut onions, then– damn it, Louis, I told you to stay outside.”

Louis shrugs.

Mitch tosses him a pack of gum. “What are you doing here anyways?”

“I’m here to help figure out where Liam is. And to talk to Harry,” Louis explains, before adding, “Though I swear I meant to get more dressed up before talking to Harry. It was gonna be perfect.”

Mitch gives him a vaguely sympathetic look. “Well, I already told you everything I know about Liam, and Harry isn’t here. So, you can leave.”

Louis narrows his eyes at Mitch. “Why am I not welcome, anyways?”

“Seriously?” Mitch asks. “Because you and Harry are like… fighting or whatever.”

“You don’t really seem to hate me that much, though,” Louis points out. “What gives?”

Mitch sighs, shrugging. “Liam seems to think you truly want to be with Harry, and I think Harry wants to be with you, too. So I dunno what’s happened that you’re both fucking it up so badly, but because of that I’m rooting for you to get back together even though I’m also proper pissed at you for upsetting H.”

Louis gives him a small smile. “You’re a softie, you know that? And a really good friend.”

“I’m mad at you, remember?” Mitch says, but he’s smiling, too. “We’re not friends.”

“I meant that you’re a good friend to Harry, but whatever,” Louis waves a hand in the air as if brushing off the conversation. “You and I can’t be friends anyways. We don’t even know each other’s last names.”

Mitch raises his eyebrows. “Your last name is Tomlinson.”

Louis presses his lips together. He had forgotten that Mitch had threatened him once with his last name. “Huh,” he says.

Mitch shakes his head. “Not saying that I want to be friends,” he rushes to clarify. “Just that I do know your last name.”

“Alright, then.” Louis shrugs. “Anyways, I’m off to find Liam and then to talk to Harry. Where is Harry, by the way?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch balks, feigning ignorance. He has one of the worst poker faces that Louis has ever seen.

“C’mon, Mitch,” Louis wheedles, “I thought you said you were rooting for us to get back together. How is that gonna happen if I can’t get to Harry and give him this fantastic speech that I spent all night on?”

“I don’t think he wants that, though,” Mitch says, not seeming impressed by the powers of Louis’ speech writing skills.

“But you said he wants us to be together,” Louis presses. “Please?”

“Fine,” Mitch gives in reluctantly. “But I really don’t know where he is. All I know is that after we left Buried Jewel, he said he needed to get out of here. Said he was going to go to the airport and get on whatever the next flight was.”

Louis waits for a moment, hoping that this is Mitch is pranking him as revenge for upsetting Harry. But unfortunately for Louis, Mitch looks serious. He does his best to keep up a brave face, to not let the news send him spiraling all over again.

“So you’re telling me that both Harry and Liam are gone and we don’t know where either of them are except for that Harry has probably left the country and Liam probably has not?” Louis demands.

Mitch winces, but nods. “If it helps,” he offers, “Harry’s never been one to stay in a place for very long.”

“How does that help?” Louis snaps.

“I don’t know. It’s not, like, personal,” Mitch says. “I don’t think he even wanted you to know that he left.”

Louis lets his façade crumble, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “I wish it was personal,” he mutters. “Then at least it would be as if he was doing it to get a rise out of me, or to test to see if I would go after him. But this?” Louis takes a deep breath. “This is like he doesn’t care how leaving affects me at all.”

Mitch doesn’t seem to know what to say to that, but he does look fully sympathetic now. He is saved from having to respond by Louis’ phone chiming with a text in his pocket.

“That’s probably Niall reminding me about coming into work,” Louis says, sliding his phone out of his pocket, and adding bitterly, “But I think instead I’ll spend the day roaming the streets in search of Liam and then maybe tonight I’ll go to the airport and catch the last flight out and roam the streets of wherever it takes me in search of Harry.”

Mitch flinches a little, but Louis doesn’t pay him any mind. The text is indeed from Niall:

[To: Louis Tomlinson 9:46 AM]

SOS. Z says Liam is in custody

Louis gulps, a new feeling of panic overtaking him. “Actually,” he says, locking eyes with Mitch, “I know where Liam is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to everyone who participated in my tumblr poll on how angsty this chapter should be. as you've figured out by now, the results can be summarized as: bring on the pain! To the few of you who voted for healthy communication and happy times... my apologies.
> 
> due to trying to make this angsty, it's not quite as silly as past chapters have been. fear not, regularly scheduled ridiculous antics will resume in the next update.


	10. rode without the chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which mitch is officially roped into the friend group, getting liam out of jail is a piece of cake, ziall are the cutest ever, and louis' gambling debt is paid in full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> turns out, when you have a written exam project to work on over summer 'break', writing for fun on the side is... not that fun. sorry for the delay but thank you for your patience, enthusiasm, and lovely comments. i think you'll like this one. enjoy!

When Louis pulls up in front of the tattoo parlor, the parking lot is empty. He gets out quickly and locks the car behind him, barely giving Mitch enough time to scramble out of the passenger seat.

Swinging open the parlor door, Louis sees two people inside, one of whom he recognizes – Niall – and the other who Mitch recognizes, if the way he has frozen on the spot is anything to go by.

“Who is she?” Louis asks under his breath, eyeing Mitch’s tense frame. “Ex-girlfriend or summat?”

Before Mitch has a chance to reply, the girl standing in front of Niall’s desk turns to face them. Somehow, she manages to peer down at Louis through her glasses even though Louis is certain that he is taller than her. “Well, hello there.” She says it with a smile, but it comes off as calculating rather than friendly.

“Er,” Louis glances back at Mitch, who is still standing in the entryway and is now actively preventing the door from closing with his immobile body. “Hello.”

Louis doesn’t think that they have met before, but there is an uncanny familiarity about her features. It almost makes him want to like her, though all his other observations so far seem to indicate that he should not.

“So, uh, funny story,” Niall says quickly, leaping out of his desk chair and rushing to stand between Louis and the girl as if he thinks a physical barrier is needed.

Louis narrows his eyes at Niall. “What’s going on?”

“It’s such a small world, you know?” Niall says, his eyes flicking nervously between Louis and the girl in front of him. He rambles on, his voice sounding a little higher than usual. “A small world that’s full of the craziest coincidences.”

Louis grimaces. He’s not a fan of ‘coincidences’ right now.

The girl apparently isn’t either. She rolls her eyes at Niall then extends an arm towards Louis in what he thinks is going to be a handshake. Instead, it’s a swift punch to the arm.

“Ouch, what the hell?” Louis yelps, rubbing a soothing hand over where he is sure to have a bruise later. She has bony knuckles.

“You said that you wouldn’t hit him,” Niall complains to the girl, frowning.

“I said that I wouldn’t punch him in the face,” she corrects, “which I didn’t.” Then, she turns to face Louis again, looking all too pleased with herself. This time, when she extends her arm, it actually is for a handshake. “I’m Gemma,” she says.

Louis eyes her outstretched hand warily. He’s not normally one to befriend someone who has just caused him bodily harm, but if Niall likes her and Mitch knows her, he supposes that she’s someone he at least ought to be introduced to.

“Okay…?” Louis says, cautiously reaching out to shake her hand.

“Gemma Styles,” she clarifies, and Louis’ jaw drops a little in surprise. Then she adds, “Liam’s lawyer,” and Louis’ jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Styles?” Louis splutters. As in, Harry Styles? “Are you Harry’s sister?”

“Why else would I punch you?” Gemma returns.

“And Liam’s lawyer?”

“Well,” Gemma shrugs, motioning to Niall, “that’s a new development.”

Louis rounds on Niall. “Explain.”

Niall looks like a deer caught in the headlights, his blue eyes wide.

“You already told me that Zayn tipped you off about Liam being taken into custody,” Louis says, when Niall doesn’t immediately offer up a full explanation. “What else?”

Niall seems to recover at the mention of Zayn. “He’s going to get fired because of us someday, you know.”

Louis waves the concern aside. It’s a valid one, but there are more pressing issues at hand. “What else?” he repeats.

“Well, Liam called me,” Niall starts.

“Liam called _you_?” Louis demands, mildly offended. “He only gets one call from jail and he used it to call you instead of me?”

“That’s actually a myth perpetuated by the film industry,” Niall says wisely. “You get one free call, and then as many calls as you want which are collect. I charged it to the company card, just so you know.”

Louis checks his phone to see if there are any missed calls. There aren’t. “So if he called you collect, what did he use the free call on?”

“His family, maybe,” Mitch offers.

Louis, Niall, and Gemma all swivel their heads to look at Mitch, who flushes under their gazes. He is now standing fully inside the parlor, but over by the wall as if he would rather not be noticed.

“That’s a lovely suggestion,” Niall says, relieving Mitch of the attention, “but he actually used that call to order us a cake.”

Sure enough, on Niall’s desk there is a large sheet cake that Louis hadn’t noticed before. There are frosted flowers around the border, and red icing in a straight line to cross out where the cake had originally been frosted in blue to read “Happy Anniversary!”. Underneath that, also in red icing, it now reads: “Sry my bail is so high. Pls find lawyer!”.

“He sent us a cake?” Louis asks.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” Mitch asks.

“Can we focus?” Gemma asks.

“He also thought that he would only get one phone call,” Niall explains. “Guess he thought this would kill two birds with one stone: send us a message and an apology dessert.”

“Liam does like to apologize with food,” Louis notes. “Wait, so he called in a cake delivery and you, but not me? Does our friendship mean nothing to him?”

Niall winces. “He said something about how you were waiting for another call like your life depended on it and not wanting to fuck that up.”

Louis sighs.

“Anyways,” Niall continues, “he also said that we’d need to find a lawyer who specializes in soulmate matters, who we could afford, and who would actually do their best to defend our case. Which is why Gemma is here.”

Gemma nods.

“I thought Harry said he didn’t have family close by,” Louis recalls. “Did you come all the way here for us?”

Gemma glares at him. “I happened to be here on a surprise visit to comfort my broken-hearted brother.”

“Right,” Louis says meekly, adding against his better judgment, “though it could be argued that actually _he_ was the one who did the heartbreaking, since-”

Gemma arches an eyebrow at him, a venomous look on her face.

Louis shuts up.

“And don’t confuse the fact that you can afford my services with me being affordable,” Gemma says. “I told Niall that I would charge you at my friends and family rate, provided that you resolve things with my brother.”

Louis hesitates. “That sounds like you’re bribing me to get back together with him. I don’t think he would like that.”

“Louis, do not mess this up for us,” Niall hisses.

Gemma gives them both an exasperated look. “Think of it like this: if you make him happy again, then you’ll be my friend. Which means you rightfully qualify for the friends and family rate.”

“But-” Louis starts.

“Louis,” Niall interrupts in a tense whisper, “I’ve seen your bank balances; I know you’re in debt.”

Gemma scoffs and shakes her head. “I’m not saying that you have to get back together with him. Just make him feel better about the breakup. Tell him that you’re sorry and he was right about everything.”

“Well, I am sorry and he was right about everything,” Louis agrees, thinking of how his stance on soulmates has now flipped.

“Perfect,” Gemma says. She pauses before asking somewhat judgmentally, “Are you really in debt?”

Louis makes a face. “I’m a new businessowner,” he says.

“Crippling debt,” Niall says.

Gemma hums in disapproval, but fortunately turns to Mitch instead. “And what are you doing here, with him, instead of with Harry? Do you know nothing of loyalty?”

Mitch visibly pales, his mouth opening and closing rapidly as he tries to come up with a response.

Gemma seems to be satisfied with making him squirm without an actual answer. When she speaks next, it’s to address the group as a whole. “Well, are we all caught up? We should get to the precinct, if so.”

Louis thinks about how Niall doesn’t know that he told Harry about them being soulmates. Niall also doesn’t know that he has discovered soulmates are a government conspiracy. And neither Niall nor Gemma knows that Harry is no longer in town, having taken the last flight out to wherever it would take him. The group is definitely not caught up.

But Louis doesn’t bring up any of that, and they all file outside.

-

“We really only have one car between the four of us?” Mitch asks. He raises an eyebrow in displeasure as he surveys Louis’ sedan, as if it’s his first time seeing it and he didn’t just ride in it earlier this morning.

“Zayn dropped me off today,” Niall says, before adding with a frown, “He thinks my car is unsafe.”

“Your car _is_ unsafe,” Louis says.

“I’m visiting,” Gemma says. “I’ve been using Lyft.”

“And Louis gave me a ride. Damn,” Mitch mutters. “Louis, why do you even have two carseats?”

They all look at the backseat of Louis’ car, where two of the three available seats are indeed occupied by children’s carseats.

“Do you have kids?” Gemma asks with yet another judgmental look.

“I have siblings,” Louis informs her. “Baby twin siblings who I occasionally drive to the park when I visit home.”

“How often do you visit home?” Niall asks, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t think you’ve been back for as long as I’ve known you.”

“I said ‘occasionally’,” Louis snaps. “Besides, it took me so long to get them set up properly when I first put them in, that I’m not removing them until the twins are grown. You can squish.”

“Shotgun!” Niall yells.

“As if,” Gemma says, before making her way to the passenger door without further argument.

Niall and Mitch exchange an uneasy glance.

Louis can’t help but laugh, hopping into the driver’s seat and watching through his rearview mirror as Niall and Mitch squeeze into the backseat. The only way they fit is with Mitch pressed up against the carseats and Niall sitting sideways, so his bum is on the seat but his legs are over Mitch’s lap. They both have incredibly uncomfortable looks on their faces for the duration of the ride.

-

“I’m Liam Payne’s lawyer,” Gemma says authoritatively as their group makes its way through the precinct doors, “here to see my client and post his bail.”

If the officer at the front desk is surprised by this, she doesn’t show it.

Starkly out of place, Louis, Niall, and Mitch stand in a row behind Gemma, each holding a Tupperware of cake that Niall had packed to-go.

Gemma doesn’t seem to need any assistance, though. She shifts her black briefcase from one hand to the other as she simultaneously roots around in her purse. A moment later, she produces a large wad of cash which she places primly on the front desk.

Louis’ eyes bug out. “Is that Liam’s bail?” he whispers to Niall.

Niall shrugs, licking frosting from his upper lip. “Must be. He said it was a lot.”

“That means we owe her all that money back, right?” Louis asks, his stomach clenching at the thought.

“Nah,” Niall says, “it’s kind of like a collateral to make sure that Liam shows up at court. She’ll get the money back as long as he does. Nice of her to pay it up for us, though. God knows none of us have that kind of money.”

“Oh,” Louis says, relaxing marginally. “Yeah, that is nice of her.”

“Lawyers,” Mitch mumbles through a mouthful of cake, “they’re just like us.”

Louis frowns at him. “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“Celebrities aren’t like us, though,” Mitch counters.

Louis shrugs.

“Right this way,” the police officer helping Gemma says, motioning for her to walk back towards the holding cells. When Louis, Niall, and Mitch try to follow, the officer holds up a hand to stop them. “Only Ms. Styles, please. She’ll be out shortly.”

They comply, taking a seat in the wooden chairs by the entryway which are arranged to form a sort of makeshift waiting room.

“Hey,” Louis whispers to Niall as they sit down, though he suspects Mitch is also close enough to hear. “I have to tell you something.”

“Sure,” Niall replies, his voice low, “what is it?”

“I told Harry that we’re soulmates,” Louis says, holding up a finger to cut off any possible reaction from Niall, “which he didn’t take well. Then I realized that soulmates aren’t real after all, and I told him that, too. And then he left the country.”

Niall gapes at him for a long moment, stunned speechless. Then he curses, “Fuuuuck. There goes our friends and family rate.”

Louis swats at his arm. “This is serious!”

“Your debt is serious!” Niall reminds him.

Mitch, who Louis had realized could overhear but hadn’t expected to participate, asks, “You don’t think soulmates are real anymore?”

Louis jumps a little in his chair, startled by Mitch’s voice. “No,” he says, shifting so that he can address both Mitch and Niall. “No, soulmates aren’t real. It’s a bit complicated, but I have proof.”

“Huh,” Mitch says, shaking his head. “Right after you’d convinced Harry to believe in soulmates.”

Louis winces.

“You have proof?” Niall asks, an intense look on his face. “You’re sure of this?”

“Hey, I’m not saying that you and Z aren’t great together,” Louis assures him. “I’m not saying that he’s not the one for you. I think you two really have something, and that plenty of soulmates out there do. But I also think that’s the purpose of the soulmate system – to pair people up and ensure that they stay together. So in your case, the system worked.”

Niall’s lips are pressed tightly together. “How do you know that?”

Louis glances around to make sure that no one else is within earshot before explaining quietly, “The form that Harry took was a soulmate pairing form. The police told me it was a record, that gets filled out after soulmates meet each other, but the information inside was from when the pair were babies - before they could have possibly met.”

“Well,” Niall frowns, “technically, they could have met, right?”

“I thought so, too. I was so desperate to make it work, but it’s not possible,” Louis reaches over to squeeze Niall’s knee. “I found them, the people that the form is about. They talked to me, answered some questions. They’re soulmates, but they definitely never met as babies.”

“They were set up?” Niall asks, sounding small.

Louis nods, completely understanding how Niall feels. “By the government, yeah.”

“Oh my god,” Niall groans, no longer quiet. He shoves his Tupperware of cake into Louis’ lap and folds himself in half, burying his face in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. “We have so many problems. How do we have _so many_ problems?”

“Apparently our streak of good luck has run out,” Mitch answers.

Louis and Niall both look at him.

“What good luck?” Louis asks.

“The heist?” Mitch reminds them, lowering his voice once more. “Not only were all of you immediately released without even a community service sentence, but the one file that Harry took while pretending to be a kleptomaniac was one that actually proves that soulmates are a government hoax. And it happened to be about people that Louis was able to find to confirm the truth. That’s an insane series of coincidences, if not the best luck ever.”

Louis flinches. “It’s not a coincidence,” he snaps. “Harry took that file deliberately.”

“And how could he have known it would be about two people that you would later be able to question?” Mitch argues.

Louis bites down on his lip, not sure what to say to that.

Niall has gone quiet, and when Louis looks over to check on him, he finds Niall looking worriedly in the direction of Zayn’s desk. “I have to tell him, don’t I,” Niall says, sounding resigned. He doesn’t ask it as a question, but Louis answers anyways.

“It’s probably best,” he agrees, before tacking on, “But don’t listen to me – turns out I’m terrible at communication in a relationship.” 

Mitch snorts at that, though he hastily apologizes when Louis fixes him with a glare.

Niall sighs. “What about you and Harry, then?”

“Same as you and Zayn,” Louis answers. “We also got lucky. He’s it for me, you know? Soulmates or not, I love him.”

“You should tell him that,” Mitch says.

“I will,” Louis nods. “I’ve got a whole speech prepared with everything I want to tell him.”

“Why not just keep it simple?” Mitch asks, sounding genuine. “What you said to Niall just now, that seemed perfect to me.”

Louis hums thoughtfully. “Thanks, Mitch. I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve got to find him first, anyways.”

Mitch shrugs. “I’m sure we can figure out where he went. Then we’ll get you on the next flight out of here.”

“You can look up flights later,” Niall says, nudging Louis’ shoulder with his own. “They’re here.”

Sure enough, Gemma is walking towards them with a weary-looking Liam in tow.

“Liam!” Louis shouts at the sight of his friend. He leaps out of his chair, sending two containers of cake clattering to the ground, and latches onto Liam tightly, wrapping him up in a hug.

Louis thinks that Niall and Mitch scramble to pick up the fallen Tupperware, but frankly he couldn’t care less. He hugs Liam tight, and for a moment, nothing else matters.

Eventually, Louis pulls back, just enough to give Liam a once over. To his surprise, he finds that Liam looks unharmed. “Are you okay?”

Liam nods sheepishly. “I’m fine, Lou. Just tired, is all.”

“What happened?” Louis asks. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Liam’s cheeks are bright with embarrassment. “I got pulled over for speeding on the way back from our place,” he says sadly. “Me, speeding - can you believe it?”

Louis shakes his head. Liam obeys speed limits to the point that it’s annoying to let him drive. It’s the reason that Louis always drives them, even when they take Liam’s car.

“When the officer up to my window to give me a ticket,” Liam continues, “he recognized me from the case Derek filed.”

Louis’ lips turn downwards. “You left your wig on the couch. Maybe he wouldn’t have recognized you if you’d had it.”

Liam shrugs, pulling Louis into a hug once more. “Don’t blame yourself,” he says, quiet but firm. “I’m okay. Sorry I didn’t call.”

When they part, Louis’ eyes are wet. He quickly rubs over them with the back of his wrist. Gemma, Mitch, and Niall are hovering nearby, Gemma with briefcase and purse in hand, Mitch with three Tupperware containers, and Niall with open arms.

“Group hug!” Niall cheers, wrapping his arms around both Louis and Liam.

Neither Mitch nor Gemma join in, but Niall squeezes Liam and Louis tightly nonetheless.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Liam says earnestly when they part, taking a moment to beam gratefully at each of them.

“There’s a catch,” Louis says, only half-joking. “We took my car here.”

Liam meets his eyes, a deadpan look on his face which shows that he clearly understands what Louis means. “Oh no,” he says.

A few minutes later, Louis drives out of the police station parking lot, violating numerous traffic laws from the get-go as his backseat consists of Liam sitting with Mitch on his lap, Mitch with his legs extending over one of the carseats, and Niall curled up in a ball across both carseats and partially atop Mitch’s legs.

Louis,” Liam instructs, sounding strained but serious, “do not speed.”

-

“So,” Niall says as he unlocks the parlor again, holding the door open for everyone else. “What’s the plan?”

“You make sure we didn’t miss any calls while we were gone,” Louis tells him, “and then you can join Mitch and I in trying to figure out the flight situation.”

Niall nods.

“Gemma, I assume you and Liam have some work to do? You can use my office,” Louis offers.

“Thanks,” Gemma says, narrowing her eyes at him, “but what’s the flight situation?”

Louis and Mitch exchange a glance.

“Holiday vacation,” Mitch says, right as Louis says:

“Visiting family.”

They exchange another glance, this time one of panic, and Louis hastily amends, “A holiday vacation to visit family.”

Gemma crosses her arms. “Don’t lie to me.”

Louis sighs. “I want to talk to Harry to fix things between us. But, well...” he trails off, trying to find the best way to tell her that Harry is gone.

“After their last argument, Harry went to the airport,” Mitch fills in. “Haven’t seen him since.”

Behind Gemma, Liam’s lips twist downwards pityingly.

Somehow, Gemma doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that Louis has caused Harry to leave town. Instead, she’s mad about something else. “So when I told you that I was here to surprise him with a visit, neither of you thought to mention that he had left?” she demands.

Louis barely refrains from glancing at Mitch again. Instead, he lowers his eyes to the ground. “Er... sorry. I thought you’d be angry that he left because of me.”

Gemma waves him off. “When it comes to fight or flight instincts, Harry has always been one for flight. I’m not surprised.”

“Oh,” Louis says, frowning.

“So what exactly is your plan?” Gemma asks. “To figure out where he went and then what? Fly there, too? Scour the city for him?”

When she says it like that, it sounds reckless and futile. Still, Louis shrugs. That is pretty much the plan.

“Out of the question,” Gemma says firmly, though she does look sympathetic. “None of you can fly anywhere until after Liam’s court date. Imagine how suspicious that would look, if you all skipped town before his trial. You’re too involved.”

“I’m not really part of any of this, actually,” Mitch says, taking a step back as if that somehow distances him from the situation.

Gemma arches an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t you help hide Liam from his soulmate and from the authorities?”

Mitch falters. “I guess.”

“And Louis,” Gemma says, turning to face him again, “the police know about Liam’s tampered tattoo. They can’t arrest you without evidence, but don’t get too comfortable. And don’t do sketchy things like leave the country. You’re almost certainly their top suspect.”

Louis scuffs his shoe against the floor.

“And while they’re investigating Louis and his parlor, they’ll also be interested in Niall,” Gemma explains, motioning to where Niall is checking the parlor’s voicemail. “You are all key parts to this case, whether you like it or not.”

Louis sighs, nodding.

"Sorry, Louis,” Gemma says. “Going in person would have been a lovely gesture, but it’s safer and more reasonable to just call him.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And, Louis?” Gemma asks, looking at him thoughtfully. “Can we speak privately before I meet with Liam?”

Louis’ eyes widen a little, but he tries to play it cool. He nods and motions for Gemma to follow him to his office.

Gemma does so, closing the door behind her and taking a seat.

There’s a beat of silence, in which Louis mentally races through all of the possible reasons for this conversation.

“I love your brother,” Louis blurts.

Gemma’s lips lift upwards in amusement, her smile so similar to Harry’s that Louis’ chest aches.

“I do,” Louis says earnestly, trying to emphasize how truly he means it. “I kept something from him, and he’s mad at me for it – which he has every right to be. But I really do love him, and I would do anything for him.”

Gemma smiles more widely, then ducks her head. When she lifts her face once more, her expression is composed. “Good,” she says simply. “You seem like a decent guy. I hope things work out between you two.”

Louis presses his lips together, nodding.

“But that’s actually not what I wanted to talk to you about,” Gemma tells him.

“Oh,” Louis says, cheeks heating with embarrassment. He had expected this to be the conversation where Gemma threatens to kill him if he ever hurts her baby brother again. God knows if the roles were reversed and it was Louis with someone who had hurt one of his younger sisters, he would be giving them hell.

“Let’s talk about Liam,” Gemma says. She takes a deep breath, studying him. “As Liam’s lawyer, it’s my job to look out for his best interests. I can do that best if he is completely truthful with me, so that there are no unexpected curveballs in the courtroom.”

Louis nods in understanding. He knew someday his knowledge of TV courtroom dramas would serve him well.

“Liam and I talked at the precinct, and he already told me the short version of everything that happened,” Gemma explains frankly, “including how you are in the process of removing his soulmate tattoo permanently.”

“I figured.” Louis nods, thinking of how Gemma had called them all out on their involvement just minutes ago.

“Louis,” Gemma says, her tone softer now, “how many cases do you know of where someone was able to legally leave their soulmate without their soulmate agreeing to it?”

Louis has no idea. Liam is the one who keeps up with the news. He tries to think of whether he ever saw such a situation on the news, but he doesn’t think he ever has. Surely it has happened at least once before though, right?

“None,” Gemma says sharply before beginning to list off, “Bannerman v. Ward, Lucas v. McLaughlin, Griffin v. Egerton, Crocker v. Sneddon-”

“I get it,” Louis interrupts. “You went to law school, no one ever wins these cases, and Liam is doomed. Is that your point?”

“Sort of,” Gemma looks somewhat apologetic. “My point is that even though I will fight for Liam with everything in me, I doubt it will be successful.”

Louis bites his lip, trying not to let her words bring his spirits down too much. After all, this isn’t new information. If it had seemed possible to win legal freedom from Derrick, they would have done that instead of committing a serious crime in the first place. “Why are you telling me this?”

Now Gemma definitely looks apologetic. “I think the prosecution will offer him a deal, and when they do, he should take it.”

Louis tilts his head, not understanding. “That sounds like a good thing, innit? What kind of deal?”

“Think about it,” Gemma says, setting her hand down on Louis’ desk. “Who do you think the government wants more: the guy who is just trying to get away from his soulmate, or the guy who removed his tattoo to make that possible, and could easily do the same for others.”

“Oh,” Louis swallows nervously. “You’re saying that the only way Liam can be free of Derrick is if he turns me in?”

“If he testifies against you, yes,” Gemma confirms.

For a moment, Louis panics. The punishment for tampering with soulmate tattoos is prison for life. He would lose everything. Then, Louis remembers who they are talking about and shakes his head. “Liam would never do that.”

“No, I don’t believe he would,” Gemma agrees. She pauses before adding, “Unless you told him to.”

Louis gapes at her. “That’s why you’re telling me this? You want me to convince Liam to turn on me?”

“As his lawyer, yes,” Gemma says. “Not only is it his best shot at being legally freed from Derrick, but it’s his only shot.”

“I’ll be sentenced to jail for life,” Louis says, though Gemma certainly knows that already.

“Perhaps,” Gemma says. “But if you also get a good lawyer, you might be able to land just a revoked tattoo license instead, especially since there’s no hard evidence against you. And that way, Liam won’t have to spend the rest of his life being abused.”

“I…” Louis is at a loss for words, overwhelmed.

“I know,” Gemma says softly. “It’s a huge risk, and a huge sacrifice. But please at least think about it.”

Louis shakes his head, his mind racing.

“For Liam,” Gemma presses. “Think about it for Liam.”

Louis makes a face, but relents. “Alright,” he mutters. “I’ll think about it.”

-

When Louis goes back out to the parlor waiting room, he finds that he can’t quite meet Liam’s eyes as he tells him that Gemma is waiting to talk with him.

Louis has always said that he would do anything for Liam. And yet, when presented with the opportunity to officially free Liam from Derrick’s clutches, he feels conflicted. In the best case scenario, he would lose his art and his business. In the worst case, he would spend the rest of his life locked up. Either would be a huge sacrifice, which would surely make anyone balk at the risk. And yet, Louis can’t help but wonder if it says something about his character that he feels hesitant about taking this hit for Liam.

Niall and Mitch are sitting by the reception desk, their bodies angled towards where Niall’s guitar is resting as if they had been deep in conversation about it before Louis walked out. Now, they’re both twisted around in their seats, looking worriedly at him.

“Everything alright?” Niall asks.

Louis wonders if there will ever be a point in his life at which the answer to that will be a resounding ‘yes’. He can’t imagine it, if so.

“Louis?” Niall prods when he doesn’t answer.

Louis takes a deep breath, forcing himself to nod. “As much as it can be,” he says. “I’ve got a couple of phone calls to make, so I’ll be in the back doing that. Are you guys good here?”

“We’re good,” Niall confirms. “No new messages while we were out and no appointments scheduled until afternoon.”

Louis nods, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. He regrets having wasted so much time moping over Harry at home instead of coming to work. It seems increasingly likely that he won’t be able to tattoo for much longer.

“You’re gonna call Harry, yeah?” Niall asks, eyes bright. “We’re rooting for you.”

“Yeah, good luck with Harry,” Mitch agrees, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Thanks, guys,” Louis says, nerves already building in the pit of his stomach.

He gives them a thin smile before going to the back room where he normally takes clients. Since Gemma and Liam are in the office, this is the next best place within the parlor to have some privacy.

Taking a seat, Louis breathes deeply for a moment to settle his nerves.

Before dialing, Louis decides to practice. He pulls the crumpled paper with his speech written on it from his pocket. “Hi, Harry,” he starts, doing his best to keep his voice from shaking.

The thing is, it’s hard to imagine how this phone conversation will go. Will Harry’s response be a biting, “What do you want, Louis?” Will it be a dismissive, “Louis, I don’t want to talk to you right now”? Will he answer his phone at all?

“Mitch told me that you left,” Louis says, “but please don’t be mad at him for that. I came over to give this speech to you and, well,” Louis shrugs a little to himself, smoothing out the paper in front of him, “since that didn’t work, I thought I could read it to you now.”

He pauses.

Harry could shut him down before he even gets to this point. Harry might not want to hear what he has to say. He might not be ready for it yet. Or, Harry might let him go on. He might, even if reluctantly or solely out of curiosity, agree to hear Louis’ speech.

Louis hopes his reaction is the latter. He looks down at his speech, a sudden sense of calm flooding over him. He can do this. Louis lifts up his phone, tapping the icon next to Harry’s name to call him.

It rings for what feels like forever. Louis’ stomach twists with a rapidly changing ratio of anticipation and disappointment at each ring, until finally the prerecorded voicemail comes on and disappointment is all Louis can feel.

But that’s okay, Louis tells himself as Harry’s voice echoes in his ear, instructing him to please leave a message after the beep. Harry will listen to his message later and call him back. He will. He has to.

“I know I said that you needed to actually call me this time, but I’m calling you instead,” Louis says after the beep, forgetting pleasantries entirely. “I wrote down everything that I want to say to you and so if you don’t mind, I’ll read it to you now.”

Louis looks down at the paper in front of him, his notes from the night before scrawled all over the page. It’s messy, because he had worked hard on it and had spent time making sure every sentence was exactly how he wanted it. There are crossed out words replaced with better synonyms, sections that have been moved around with arrows, and one spot where he scribbled so harshly that he tore a hole in the paper.

“All my life, I’ve looked forward to meeting my soulmate. And Harry, meeting you was everything I’d been told it would be and more. I was drawn to you the moment I met you, even before I had any idea as to why. I didn’t know you were marked as my soulmate yet, but the glimpses of your personality still captivated me.”

Louis thinks back to the day that Harry had first come into his office, a seemingly simple meeting that had completely changed his life. Harry had been so determined to get his soulmate tattoo removed that he had already been to every other tattoo parlor. He had been in a position of power over Louis, armed with knowledge of Liam’s illegal removal. But Harry hadn’t lied about having an abusive soulmate himself or tried to use his knowledge as leverage. Instead, he had been open about his perspective and understanding even when Louis had turned him away. Louis had been able to tell he had a heart of gold even then.

“You showed me that you were brave and persistent, honest and kind, thoughtful and romantic,” Louis says, reminiscing fondly. “And I was smitten. When I realized that you were my soulmate, I attributed how quickly I had become enamored with you to us being soulmates. But being marked as soulmates wasn’t the reason I fell for you. It was just how I explained to myself why I fell so deeply for you so quickly.”

Louis thinks about his conversation with Niall, how his description of his feelings for Zayn had seemed pure and lovely, yet paled in comparison to the strong sensations that Louis experienced with Harry. “I think that finding a love like ours is rare. You asked me if this means we’re a coincidence, and I’ve thought about it a lot since then. My answer is no, but I do think that we got incredibly lucky. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you at the start that we were soulmates, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to accept that soulmates aren’t real. But just because soulmates aren’t real, that doesn’t mean that what we have isn’t real.”

Louis’ voice grows a bit stronger, and he finds himself smiling as he says the last part of his speech. “Even though I had my doubts about whether soulmates were real or not, I never questioned my love for you. I love you for who you are, not for your tattoo. And I’ve been falling deeper in love with you every day since the day I first laid eyes on you, Harry. Nothing will change that - not the government, not the soulmate system, not anything. It’s the kind of love that lasts a lifetime, and if you’d be willing, I’d like to give us another shot.”

Louis takes a deep breath, simultaneously relieved at having said his piece and worried that he didn’t get it quite right. “I hope you feel the same way,” he says, suddenly feeling small. “Let me know.”

Then he hangs up, focuses on breathing until his heart rate feels normal again, and dials another number.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answers immediately, brisk but kind.

“Hi, Sarah Jones,” Louis says with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Sarah Jones replies. “I get the feeling that I’ll be even better after this call. Am I right?”

“As always,” Louis tells her. “The form proves soulmates aren’t real. It’s an assigned pairing, and the soulmates it paired were babies when it was filled out. They hadn’t met yet.” He decides to leave out his total breakdown over the discovery and how hard he had tried to prove his own beliefs to be true. Still, he suspects she knows.

“Excellent,” Sarah Jones says, and Louis pictures her sharp grin.

“I’m sure you’ll want the document itself as proof,” Louis says coolly, “but there’s something I want in exchange.”

“Oh?” Sarah Jones asks, sounding curious but not nearly as surprised as Louis had hoped she might be.

“I’m starting a book club,” Louis says. “I want you to join.”

“Done,” she agrees easily, surprising Louis instead.

Louis had expected far more negotiating before she acquiesced. He had been willing to let her show up without even reading the book, if the compromising went on for long enough. “Really?”

“Sure,” Sarah Jones says simply. “I like reading. What’s the first book?”

Louis smiles. “You’ll see.”

-

“Niall, Mitch, what day of the week are you free to hang out?” Louis asks as he comes back into the reception area, clapping his hands together. There is still a lot weighing him down, but completing those two phone calls has taken a load off.

“This is really like a one time thing,” Mitch says after a moment of hesitation, motioning to their small group. “Remember when I told you that we’re not friends and I’m not even supposed to be talking to you?”

Louis ignores him. “I’m starting a book club. You’re both joining,” he tells them. “What night works best?”

“Wednesday?” Niall offers, lips curved up in a smile.

“Wednesday it is,” Louis says decisively. He raises an eyebrow at Mitch, daring him to argue.

Wisely, Mitch keeps his mouth shut.

-

Louis throws himself into everything that he has been neglecting while wallowing over Harry. The tattoo parlor is his first priority. With Niall and Mitch’s help, he finalizes all of the appointments which had been tentatively rescheduled while he was refusing to leave his bed. Then, while he takes care of the afternoon appointments in the back, Niall and Mitch work on creating some social media advertisements. They even start writing a jingle for the radio, although that brainstorming session soon turns into general songwriting.

After Louis’ second customer of the afternoon, he comes back out to the reception area to find that Liam has joined the songwriting session. Gemma is nowhere to be seen, but perhaps that’s actually a good thing.

“Sorry to interrupt, but can you do something for me?” Louis asks Niall, causing all three boys to look up at him.

Niall laughs, rolling his chair away from the group and back behind the desk. “You’re not interrupting, Lou,” he says. “This is literally my job. What do you need me to do?”

Louis shrugs. “Put up a job posting to hire another tattoo artist.”

Niall’s eyebrows jump upwards.

“Someone who can work full time, has at least two years of previous experience, and preferably a strong art background,” Louis continues, not stopping to give Niall’s stunned expression a response. “Post it everywhere – LinkedIn, Indeed, you know.”

“Is this about the rescheduling?” Niall asks. “It’s not ideal, but everyone seemed understanding about being postponed. I don’t think we need to hire someone else to cover you.”

“No, that’s not what this is about. And don’t question what I tell you to do,” Louis says, using what is probably the most dismissive tone that he has ever spoken to Niall in.

Niall doesn’t take it well. “So what, you can’t handle the stream of customers coming through the door?” he demands, waving at the empty waiting room to prove his point.

Louis doesn’t mean to, but his eyes dart to Liam for a split second. Niall notices, whipping around to stare at him.

“Don’t look at me!” Liam shakes his head, eyes wide in bewilderment. “I didn’t say he should hire someone else.”

Niall turns back to face Louis, a fierce look on his face.

“Why is it such a big deal?” Louis asks, lifting a shoulder. “If I want to hire another tattoo artist, I absolutely can.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Niall says stubbornly. “Remember that debt we were talking about? I know you sometimes struggle to find money for my paychecks. There’s no way you can afford to take someone else on, especially when the parlor clearly doesn’t need another artist.”

“Niall, please?” Louis asks tiredly. “I need you to do this, or I’ll do it myself.”

The door jangles, startling everyone in the room. Louis’ next appointment walks in, effectively ending the conversation for now.

Niall sighs, nodding at Louis before turning to greet the customer. He isn’t quite as cheerful as usual, but it’s a close thing.

The customer is someone new, a man named Mike who has kind brown eyes, a short beard, and a slight beer belly. He assures Louis that he didn’t mind being rescheduled, and that he is thrilled to be getting his tattoo. The design he has chosen is the outline of his hometown with a small heart acting as a pinpoint for where his family’s house is. It’s an incredibly thoughtful design, and Louis has a great time tattooing him. Mike has gotten tattoos before, so he is used to the pain and able to stay still while regaling Louis with stories of his childhood while he works. The tattoo comes out great, the lines neat and precise, and Mike is beyond ecstatic about it.

Louis is ecstatic, too, and he takes a moment to savor the feeling. He might not get to experience it too many more times, after all.

When they reemerge to the reception area of the parlor, Louis glimpses Indeed.com open on Niall’s computer, and gives him a small, grateful smile.

Mike launches into an explanation behind his newest tattoo when Niall asks how it went, and while Niall is occupied, Louis takes the opportunity to steal Liam away.

“Why are we hiding away in your office?” Liam asks as Louis shuts the door quietly behind them.

“We need to talk, that’s why,” Louis says seriously.

“Are you mad at me for not calling you?” Liam asks worriedly. “I swear I would have, if you weren’t hanging on by a thread while waiting for your phone to ring.”

“If there’s ever a ‘next time’ - which, I hope to God there won’t be – I’d better be the first one you call,” Louis tells him.

Liam smiles. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Louis sags into his chair, a small weight lifting off his chest. “Yeah, I know. You’re my best friend, too, Li.”

Liam nods, then looks down at his arm. The feather inked there is a light gray, more of a shadow than a true tattoo at this point. “We came pretty close, huh?”

Louis follows Liam’s gaze, the barely visible tattoo taunting him. “It’s not over yet,” he says.

Liam makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “It is, Lou. Gemma will have a court date set for me soon, and then...” he shrugs, “well, you know how these cases go.”

Louis takes a deep breath, watching Liam closely. Louis had felt at war with himself when Gemma had first suggested it, but now he feels calm. Looking at Liam, seeing the resigned expression on his face, Louis feels sure.

“There might still be a way,” he says quietly.

Liam’s eyes flash darkly, tearing away from his tattoo to lock with Louis’. “No,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. He seems to know what Louis is suggesting, so Gemma must have brought it up already.

“Liam,” Louis says pleadingly, grabbing for Liam’s hands across the desk and covering them with his own. “It’s a good option.”

“You’ll lose your career, if not your life,” Liam says. “It’s too high risk, Lou.”

“They’ll figure out it was me anyways,” Louis argues. “Who else would have done it? I’m a tattoo artist, your best friend, and your roommate.”

“They’ll suspect you, but they can’t do anything without _proof_,” Liam says, snatching his hands away from Louis’.

“How much proof will it take for me to be convicted, though? Just one witness who saw us here after-hours would do it, I bet,” Louis counters.

“We were careful,” Liam says lowly. “They won’t find anything.”

“They might,” Louis says gently. “And if I’m going to get caught anyways, wouldn’t we rather it be on our terms? Maybe in the deal they ask you to make, you can say that you’ll testify against me only if my sentence isn’t prison for life and you get to be legally freed from Derrick. That could work, right?”

Liam looks unsure, which means he is at least thinking about it. Then, he sighs, his eyebrows slanting upwards sadly. “This is why you wanted to hire someone else, isn’t it? You won’t be able to tattoo anymore.”

Louis presses his lips together, then nods once. “But it’d be worth it,” he says meaningfully, “if Derrick could never hurt you again. Plus, I think I’d still be allowed to manage the parlor.”

“You love being a tattoo artist, though. You love this job,” Liam says, motioning around them. Louis’ bare office is the only thing visibly around them, but Louis gets Liam’s point regardless. “And you’re so good at it, too. You never have any smearing or ink-bleeding – what's that called?”

“Blowouts,” Louis supplies.

“Right. That.” Liam nods. “And your lines are always crisp and straight. You’re talented, Lou, and you love doing it.”

“But they’re going to catch me, Liam. It’s only a matter of time. If they can’t find direct evidence, they’ll find circumstantial evidence,” Louis says, waving off Liam’s dubious look. “Okay, we can run the terminology by Niall later. I don’t know what it’s called, but they’ll get me. I won’t be able to tattoo no matter what, and at least if you’re the one who turns me in, you’ll be free.”

“Louis, don’t you see?” Liam asks sadly. “You’ve given up too much for me already.”

“This is for both of us, Li,” Louis says assuredly. “It’s the best option.”

Liam is silent for at least a full minute, his brows furrowed grimly as he thinks it over.

Louis waits, his own mind racing. Gemma had seemed to think Louis could find a lawyer to get him off with just a revoked license. If Liam is able to secure his sentence in the deal, that makes things even less risky. But was Gemma being truthful? She only has to look out for Liam, after all, and has every reason to want to get back at Louis for hurting her brother.

Finally, Liam speaks. “I’ll ask if they’ll do the deal, but I’m only taking it if they can guarantee, in writing, that your punishment will be that you can’t tattoo anymore. I won’t take the deal if it means life in jail for you.”

Louis doesn’t know if it’s the right thing to do, but it feels a bit better to at least have a plan. “Okay. Thanks, Li.”

Liam glares at him, eyes watery. “Don’t you dare thank _me_, Louis.”

Louis makes a face back at him, fond.

“Talk about something else,” Liam insists, sniffing loudly as he motions for Louis to hurry up before he cries.

“Right, right, um,” Louis winces, “have I mentioned that I don’t think soulmates are real anymore? Also, I’m starting a book club. Wednesdays.”

It does the trick, shocking Liam so much that his tears are forgotten. “You _what_?”

Louis scratches the back of his neck. “I know, I know. It’s hard for me to believe, too. But there was a file that Harry snagged during our break-in to City Hall and it’s solid proof. It’s a soulmate pairing, set up when the two people were babies. It’s irrefutable.”

Liam takes a moment before he replies, still looking stunned. “You’re serious?”

Louis nods solemnly, albeit somewhat sheepishly.

“That would mean...” Liam shakes his head. “I hadn’t even let myself dare to believe that there was an ounce of truth to what Harry was telling you. But if you have proof...”

“I do. And trust me, I tried to disprove it,” Louis tells him.

“That means that Derrick isn’t my soulmate,” Liam says slowly, his face growing lighter. “It’s not that I wasn’t good enough for him, or that I messed up, or that I wasn’t becoming the person that he needed me to be. We're just not destined for each other. We’re not right for each other. We’re _not_ soulmates. And that’s... that’s not my fault.”

“It was never your fault, even when we thought you were soulmates,” Louis reminds him.

Liam brushes him off. “Louis, this changes everything,” he says excitedly. Then, after a pause in which he likely remembers his impending court date, “Well, technically it doesn’t change anything. Our society is still the same. But for _me_. Mentally, you know? It changes everything. You’re absolutely sure, right?”

It’s the first time that soulmates not being real has felt like a good thing. Louis smiles a little, wishing he had thought about how much this would mean to Liam sooner. “I’m sure, Li.”

“Wait, why is Harry upset then?” Liam asks, a shadow flickering over his otherwise reassured expression. “Shouldn’t he be overjoyed that you finally agree with him?”

“I may have convinced him that soulmates were real right before I discovered proof that they aren’t,” Louis explains, biting his lip. “I think - well, I hope – that he’ll come around.”

Liam considers that for a moment. “I think he will.”

Louis shrugs, trying not to get his hopes up too much. “Plus,” he says, deliberately shifting the conversation away from Harry, “there’s this book that I think will help us all wrap our minds around soulmates not being real. I want us all to read it together.”

“Right, so that’s where the book club comes in,” Liam says.

Louis grins. Liam has always been good at putting pieces together. “Exactly.”

“Who all is coming?” Liam asks. “Niall, surely.”

“Yep, plus Mitch, hopefully Zayn, and also my friend Sarah Jones,” Louis says. “You can invite Gemma if you think she’d like to come, too.”

Liam pulls a face. “Well, I’ll invite her. I don’t think she’ll want to come, though.”

There’s a brisk knock on the door, followed by Niall’s head poking through. “Heard y’all talking about me,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “It better be about how I’m going to smash this new song I wrote when I perform it for the first time tonight at BJ’s.”

Louis bats his eyelashes, saying sweetly, “Of course we were talking about you and your musical genius, Niall. It’s all we ever talk about, really.”

“We were talking about the book club, actually,” Liam says, undermining his sarcastic response.

Louis rolls his eyes.

Niall beams anyways.

-

The last time that Louis was at BJ’s, he proved that soulmates aren’t real and alienated the love of his life, who he had formerly thought of as his soulmate. Needless to say, he isn’t thrilled about the plan to go to BJ’s as a group again that evening. But it’s a Monday, and friendship is next on his list of things to prioritize now that he is once again functional.

Louis parks on the other end of the parking lot, far from the building and where he and Harry had last spoken. Liam and Mitch complain a bit about the unnecessary walk, but Louis pays them no mind.

Niall is already onstage when they get inside, and Zayn waves at them from the best seat in the entire bar – the center booth. Mitch and Liam go to order some drinks and greasy food for the table, while Louis makes his way over to Zayn.

“Hey, Z,” he greets Zayn with an easy grin. “How’s it going?”

Zayn gives him a one-armed hug, but his lips are pursed and his eyes are narrowed. “It’d be going better if you hadn’t convinced my soulmate that soulmates aren’t real,” he replies coolly.

“Sorry,” Louis winces, “I really didn’t mean to cause you two any problems, it’s just-”

To his surprise, Zayn chuckles, a smile settling over his features. “I’m messing with you,” he admits, nudging Louis with his elbow before scooting over to make room for him to sit. “We talked it over. Soulmates are apparently the most smoothly executed government project of all time, but we found each other through it and now we’re in love, and that’s all that matters.”

Louis breathes out a huge sigh of relief, shaking his head and mustering up a halfhearted laugh. “You little shit,” he accuses, sinking into the seat next to Zayn.

“You sort of deserved it,” Zayn says, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. “Nearly wrecked my relationship, mate.”

“I doubt it was even close to being wrecked,” Louis says, raising a challenging eyebrow. “You’re the healthiest couple I know.”

Zayn grins, looking down. “Yeah, well,” he says lamely, “so what?”

“So, I’m happy for you,” Louis says, knocking their shoulders together. “You deserve it.”

“Don’t be sappy with me,” Zayn says, his cheeks tinting red. “Save that for Niall. He’s the romantic.”

“He is, isn’t he?” Louis agrees. “Heard he wrote a new song for you that he’s going to play for the first time ever tonight.”

The tips of Zayn’s ears redden.

“I heard him composing parts of it at work,” Louis says lowly, like it’s a secret. “One of the lyrics is ‘I love my Zaynie-boo with my all my heart’.”

“No it’s not,” Zayn grumbles, but his blush darkens nonetheless.

“No,” Louis laughs, “it’s not.”

Fortunately for Zayn, Liam and Mitch arrive with food and drinks, and the conversation is brought away from his love life. It’s the first time that Zayn has met Mitch, so they do some quick introductions. After some initial misgivings due to Mitch being the mastermind behind the City Hall heist, the two get along just fine.

“So this next song is a new one,” Niall’s voice catches Louis’ attention. His head is ducked forwards shyly as he scratches the back of his neck, somehow looking bashful while completely owning the stage.

A hush falls over the room, a testament to how well-liked Niall is at BJ’s.

“It’s about love, and what it feels like to know who you’re going to spend your life with.” There’s a soft whoop from someone in the crowd, and Niall’s head lifts to reveal the smile on his face. “That’s different from first meeting your soulmate, mind you,” he adds into the mic.

“Your influence,” Zayn mutters.

Louis shrugs, smiling at Niall onstage as he begins to strum his guitar.

“That first night, we were standin’ at your door,” Niall’s voice carries clearly across the room, melodic and soft. “Fumblin’ for your keys then I kissed you. Ask me if I wanna come inside, 'cause we didn't wanna end the night, then you took my hand and I followed you.”

Louis glances at Zayn, beyond pleased to see his blush has picked up again. “So is that how it went, that first night you met?”

“Shut up and let him sing,” Zayn hisses back.

That means yes, Louis decides.

“Yeah I see us in black and white, crystal clear on a starlit night,” Niall belts out what must be the chorus. “In all your gorgeous colours...” There’s a pause, then, soft and sure, “I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

Louis can’t help the “aww” that escapes him, similar to how Zayn most likely couldn’t help the gasp that he makes. Onstage, Niall’s is shining like the sun. The crowd is enthralled with the song as well, but Niall probably doesn’t even notice. He only has eyes for Zayn.

Louis sees the same love reflected in Zayn’s eyes, and feels a flicker of hope in his chest as Niall continues singing. It’s possible, then, to choose your soulmate even after learning that the concept of soulmates is meaningless. It’s possible to still be in love and to still be happy. If Niall and Zayn can do it, then maybe he and Harry still have a chance.

-

Louis had accepted that he wouldn’t hear from Harry for a while. After all, as far as he knew, Harry was in a different country, and might not have even checked his voicemail. He wouldn’t be surprised if Harry had opted to keep his phone off during his getaway trip. Although Louis was hopeful for his and Harry’s future, he didn’t expect for anything to happen anytime soon.

That’s why he is completely caught off guard the next day when the bell over the parlor door jangles fifteen minutes past closing, and Harry Styles walks in.

Harry’s hair is tousled, soft curls sticking up in every which way. He is wearing inexplicably tight jeans with an oversized button up which is not really buttoned up very far at all. There is a duffel slung over his shoulder and another bag in one of his hands, both still sporting airport tags.

Louis had been finishing his closing routine, a little slower than usual since Niall had left early to get ready for a dinner date with Zayn. Louis wishes he could say that he played it cool, but instead he drops the broom he was holding, stammering out, “H-Harry?”

“Hey, Lou,” Harry says, biting his lip uncertainly. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

Louis huffs out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re _here_,” he says, his heartrate picking up. “That’s better than calling.”

Harry shrugs one shoulder. “I thought it would be better for us to talk in person.”

That’s when Louis realises that Harry hasn’t rushed into his arms, open after having abandoned his broom. Harry hasn’t swept him up in a hug, hasn’t crashed their lips together, hasn’t said anything indicative of his feelings for Louis.

“Right,” Louis says belatedly, suddenly nervous, “talk.”

Harry’s lips twitch, a flash of amusement crossing his features. “First, though,” he continues seriously, “we have some unfinished tattoo-related business to attend to.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. It takes a moment, looking into Harry’s calm eyes, before he feels something angry unfurling in his chest. Louis had poured his heart into that message, and the first thing Harry wants when he comes back is his soulmate tattoo removal? Louis looks down in annoyance at where Harry’s ship tattoo is, covered partially by the sleeve of his shirt.

“Not my tattoo,” Harry rushes to say, managing to get the words out just before Louis snaps.

“What?” Louis asks tersely.

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry runs hand through his hair, setting down his bags on the floor and stepping towards Louis with outstretched arms. “I thought it was sort of ironic, sort of funny, but I can see how it could be misinterpreted. That’s not what I meant, this isn’t about my soulmate tattoo.”

Louis steps back distrustfully. “What the fuck are you talking about then, H?”

Harry takes a deep breath. “Remember the grand opening?” he asks, a pleading smile on his face. “Remember that bet we made, that you lost?”

Louis furrows his brow in confusion. With all that has happened since then, he had nearly forgotten about their wager. “Winner picks a tattoo that the loser has to get,” Louis recalls. Slowly, the tightness in his chest begins to ease up. He’s not fully sure where Harry is going with this or why he thinks it’s the most important thing to bring up right now, but at least he’s not still set on his tattoo removal.

“I won, and I have an idea for-” Harry cuts himself off, seeming to catch on to the fact that Louis is distinctly unamused. “Louis,” he says, reaching out for Louis’ cheek but stopping himself short, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I’m not good with words like you are. I booked my flight back as soon as I got your message, and tried writing up a response the whole trip back but nothing came close to expressing what I really want to say. Lyrics are different, lyrics I can do. But I couldn’t just burst in here singing to you, could I? And, well, hopefully there will be plenty more chances for me to serenade you with songs written just for you.”

Louis fights to keep his hopes from rising, but the words falling from Harry’s lips make it nearly impossible. “Do you mean...?”

“So if I can’t get the words right, and lyrics are for later, then what now?” Harry plows ahead, tentatively taking both of Louis’ hands in his. “Actions,” he answers. “Grand gestures. That, I can do.”

“Harry,” Louis says slowly. He thinks Harry wants what he does, but it’s hard to tell with how his heart is thundering in his ears and Harry is circling the subject. “What are you saying?”

“Right,” Harry shakes his head, squeezing Louis’ hands. “I’m doing a bit of a shit job at this, aren’t I?”

Louis cracks a smile, shrugging.

“I’m saying that I love you, too,” Harry says meaningfully. “And I’m asking you to come with me to get a tattoo, because you lost a bet months ago and I’ve got something super romantic planned.”

Louis sucks in a breath of air, feeling lightheaded at the confirmation of Harry’s feelings. He looks into Harry’s eyes to ground himself, to convince himself that this is real. Sure enough, Harry is here, holding him close and looking at him with love and adoration.

Harry must interpret Louis’ silence as hesitation. Biting his lip, he says softly, “I know it’s hard to have faith in me right now, after everything that happened. I’m so sorry, Louis. We should have been working through this as a team, but I fled every time.”

“Gemma said that when it comes to fight or flight, you’ve always been one for flight,” Louis murmurs.

“You’ve met Gemma?” Harry blinks. Then, he shakes his head. “Well, she’s right. But I’m not going anywhere this time. I understand if you don’t trust me, but I promise that I won’t leave you again. Let me show you, Lou. Let me give you something that you’ll have forever, and every time you look at it, you’ll know how much you mean to me. You’ll know that my heart is yours.”

“Harry…” Louis whispers, his heart swelling. 

Harry frees one of his hands from Louis’ to lift his chin, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Louis smiles into it, and it feels as if he has never smiled a real smile until this moment. A rush of safety, warmth, and love courses through him, and he melts into Harry as the rest of the world falls away.

When they pull apart, resting their foreheads together, Louis swears he has never felt more connected to anyone, even when he thought that he and Harry had an unbreakable soulmate bond.

“We should talk more later, just to make sure we’re on the same page about everything, but for now…” Harry steps backwards, reaching out a hand for Louis to take. “Ready to get a tattoo?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was very tempted to cut off this chapter after harry walked in the door, or after the 'unfinished tattoo-related business' line. you're welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make my day! feel free to encourage me to write by checking out the [fic post](https://tempolarriefix.tumblr.com/post/614905168012640256/tempolarriefix-no-hand-on-the-reign-pairing). 
> 
> thank you for reading! xx


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